


Ties that bind, Lies that fray, and things that make us lose our way

by Avocados-in-Love (Zorro_sci)



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mentions of canon typical violence, a/b/o dynamics, less season 2 compliant, sorta season 1 compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-04-19 00:35:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 41,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14225274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zorro_sci/pseuds/Avocados-in-Love
Summary: Matt had two things he knew he needed in his life.  Foggy, his mate and the love of his life, and the mask, to help him fight back against the injustice that surrounded him.  If only having one didn't make it nearly impossible to have the other.





	1. Dead and Empty

Matt trudged home, weary to his bones. It had been a terrible night. Hell's Kitchen had burned. Worse yet, everyone thought that he had planted the bombs to blame for his city's destruction.

What he didn’t realize was that the night was about to get worse.

He made his way in from the rooftop entrance, and down into his too quiet apartment. It seemed almost dead without Foggy, and he hadn't been there in weeks.

It wasn’t that Matt wasn’t grateful that Foggy was at Karen's instead of their apartment. The arrangement certainly made things easier. He wasn’t ready to tell the omega about his nighttime activities, and his initial plan of leaving while the omega was asleep would have never worked long-term. Things had escalated, and heavy sleeper or not, Foggy would have awoken when Matt had stumbled into their apartment in as bad a condition as he had been after the Russians; or worse, one night Foggy would have awoken early and noticed that Matt wasn't there, and who knows what conclusions he would've jump to from that.

Still, the scent of his mate lingered in the dead apartment, and made Matt ache. It had been a terrible night, and there was only one person he wanted. One person who could make him feel better, who could wrap him up in his arms, and his scent, and make him feel like everything could be okay again; but Matt had all but sent him away.

Speaking of which, Matt should call him. He should make sure Foggy and Karen were okay. He was fairly sure that Karen's apartment wasn’t close enough to the bombs for them to be in any danger, but it didn’t hurt to make sure.

"14 missed calls and 10 messages," intoned his phone when he opened it.

Matt's heart raced. Why did he have so many messages? Was Foggy okay?

He pressed the button to play his messages and waited anxiously.

"First message, Tuesday 8:45 pm:. . ." said the phone, only to be followed by Foggy's voice.

"Matt? Where are you? Please call me back. It's chaos out there, and I'm worried."

Matt let out a held breath as a similar message played with Foggy once again pleading with him to answer his phone. 

Foggy sounded worried, and he felt a little bad for not getting back to him sooner, but at least the messages were proof that Foggy had been alive and well mere hours ago.

"Matt, it's Karen. Please call back. We're worried," she dropped her voice on the recording. "Foggy is almost panicking. I think he's holding himself back by sheer force of will, but he's starting to look really pale, and I'm worried."

Matt froze, and immediately felt worse. He really shouldn't have left this so long. He really hoped Foggy didn’t have a panic attack. The omega had had one toward the end of law school, and it had been a horrible thing to witness. The idea of him facing it again, without the calming presence of his alpha by his side this time, made Matt feel sick, (and like a failure).

Matt spiraled into self-loathing for the next few minutes. So much so that he barely caught any of the next few messages that Foggy left him. Only that the omega sounded extremely distressed, which was more than enough fuel to add to his self-accusatory fire.

Then Karen's voice broke through the haze of his self-recriminations.

"Matt, we need you. Foggy needs you. He's hurt. 

He was injured, but there was so much going on, and we didn't realize until . . .anyway, he's been admitted at Metro General. Please get here if there's any way you can. He needs you."

Hurt. Foggy was hurt. . .and they didn't realize it at first. That could mean his injuries were minor, and easily missed, especially when adrenaline was pumping. Or, it could mean his injuries were internal, and they didn't realize he was hurt until things took a turn for the worst.

How bad was it? He'd been admitted to the hospital, so that had to mean something. Was he okay? Had he improved, or gotten worse since Karen's call?

Infuriatingly, that was his last message, and it was sent over an hour and a half ago. Anything could have happened in that time. Foggy could have been released, or he could be . . . not that, (Matt would know. _He would._ He would feel it).


	2. How did this happen?

_Ba----bum . . . . . .ba----bum . . . . . . .ba----bum_

Matt sighed with relief as he exited the taxi in front of Metro General. 

The heartbeat that his ears honed in on was slow, too slow to be natural, (they must have given Foggy a heavy sedative), but it was there. It was immediately recognizable as belonging to his mate, and it _was there_ , beating on to keep his world alive.

Matt sent up a brief prayer of thanks, and then navigated his way into the hospital and toward the precious rhythm. 

It’s difficult not to run, but a blind man sprinting down the halls would draw too much attention, and that’s the last thing he wants. Normal considerations aside, it’s nearly one in the morning, and well past visiting hours. If Matt wanted to stay, he needed to be inconspicuous.

The elevator ride up to Foggy's floor seemed endless, but at least each passing second was bringing him closer to his mate. Soon he'd be able to touch him, to hold him in his arms, and make sure everything is alright. Soon didn’t really seem soon enough though.

As Matt exited the elevators, the sound of night nurses gossiping threatened to steal his attention. He was about to tune it out completely, when something caught his attention.

"What am I supposed to tell the patients asking after the male omega?" a harried beta female asked as she approached the nurses' station.

"What are you talking about?" an annoyed-sounding alpha female responded.

"You know, the male omega with long, blond hair?" ( _Foggy?_ )

". . . The one who got stabbed by a glass shard?" ( _Stabbed_ . . .Matt's stomach twisted and dropped.) 

". . . There's about a dozen patients who keep talking about how he was fixing sinks or something in their apartment building," ( _Sounds like Foggy. He knows his way around a toolbox, and he's always willing to help where he can._ Matt stopped around the corner to listen to the rest of the conversation) 

". . .and then the bombs went off, and he ran through the building helping people get out." ( _Of course he did . . ._ )

". . .They heard he was admitted, and some of them are getting pretty worked up about it. Asking if their angel is okay." ( _Yes, please say he is._ )

"Angel?" ( _Yes, **angel,** why does she sound so skeptical?_ )

"Direct quote.

So, what should I tell them?

I know I can't disclose private patient information, but can I say something general about how he'll be okay?" ( _Oh, thank God! Foggy's going to be okay. . .well, if they're talking about Foggy; but they have to be, right?_ )

"I suppose, if you think it'll help."

"Thanks. I'll go tell them their angel's going to be fine."

Matt was about to continue on his way when . . .

"Hey. You guys talking about that omega?" a third nurse asked as he approached.

"You heard about him too?"

"Yeah, apparently he's a lawyer, and he's been working on a case to prevent the people in the apartment building he was at from getting strong-armed out of their homes." ( _Definitely Foggy. Thank God. Thank God! He's going to be okay._ )

"Lawyer? I thought he was fixing sinks." ( _And a lawyer **couldn't possibly** fix a sink?_ )

"He was. 

From what I've heard, the landlord got some workmen to smash the place up, and the lawyer omega was trying to help out by fixing what he could." 

"Wait, we're talking about a male omega, that's a lawyer, and spends his evenings off fixing up rundown apartments?" ( _Your point?_ Matt thought defensively at the disbelief in her voice)

"Yeah."

"Is he hot?" asked the female alpha, (causing a slight prickle of jealously to well up in Matt).

"He's pretty cute," said the female beta. ( _Back off!_ )

"No," replied the male beta in time with the other. "He's not much to look at, but the female omega that came in with him . . .wow!" ( _How dare you! He's amazing!_ )

Matt wasn’t sure which answer upsets him more. On the one hand, he’s a very jealous man. On the other hand, how dare anyone say a word against his omega!

"Not that it matters," continued the male nurse. "He's bonded. I saw his mating scar while they were stitching him up." ( _That's right. He's **MINE!**_ )

". . .and he seemed pretty worried about his alpha. 

They could hardly get him to put his phone down long enough to clean and dress the wound . . .and he kept getting more and more panicked each time his alpha didn't pick up, so they sedated him." ( _I'm so, so sorry, Foggy. I should have been here._ )

"Sedated him?! What did they use? Isn't he pregnant?" asked the female beta. ( _What?!_ Matt felt everything around him go out of focus for a few seconds.)

"Yeah. That other omega he came in with volunteered it right away. Said they thought he might be pregnant, and she still had the test in her purse that they'd been planning to use later that night . . . . You don't think she's the sister wife do you? I mean, they seemed pretty close, and she did say 'when they got home,' but polygamy isn't that common, and one alpha having both of them seems really unfair."

"And life is fair? I think all the people who got hurt in a bombing tonight, just by being in the wrong place at the wrong time, might take issue with what you find unfair.

Besides, you never would've had a chance with her either way."

"You don't know that. I . . ."

Matt stopped paying attention to them, and stumbled past the nurses' station as quietly as he could manage.

Pregnant. Foggy was pregnant. . .and Matt hadn't noticed. How had he not noticed?

But . . .well, he had noticed that Foggy had put on a little weight. He could hear it in the slightly heavier fall of his footsteps. Still, he'd attributed it to the stress of starting a new firm, and the accompanying stress-eating. . .but maybe it wasn't just stress-eating. 

Foggy had also been really territorial about their apartment. The night they brought Karen home after getting her released from jail the omega had been visibly upset, and nearly unkind, about her presence in their home; despite how sympathetic to her plight he had been at the station and their office.

Come to think of it, Foggy's resting heart rate had increased slightly, (previously attributed to too much coffee), his scent had changed, (but he was essentially living with Karen in her apartment these days, and it was filled with scents that were new and different for Matt), and he'd been moodier, (again, previously ascribed to stress). . . .and all of it had happened since Foggy's last heat.

However, when all of the evidence was put together, Matt really _should_ have known. . .Or maybe not. With the two of them trying to get their firm off of the ground, stress seemed just as likely an explanation, (if not a better one), than pregnancy. Especially since they had used protection during Foggy's last heat, and Foggy was on birth control.

Worse, Foggy had apparently suspected he might be pregnant, and hadn't said anything to Matt. Yes, he hadn't taken the test yet, and maybe he was waiting until he was sure, but they used to tell each other everything. Why hadn't he told him?

Did he not want the baby? (That seemed unlikely. Foggy loved kids.)

More likely, Matt's secretiveness had spilled over. He’d pushed Foggy away. Lied to him. Kept secrets. Now Foggy had started to do the same.

Matt paused all such thoughts as he walked into the room that contained Foggy's drugged heartbeat, trying to recenter himself. He breathed deeply, taking in his omega's scent, richer than it had been before Foggy's last heat, more floral with hues of Karen's soap and shampoo, salty with stale tears that had fallen onto his hospital gown, ( _your fault, Murdock_ ), and slightly bitter with fear-sweat, adrenaline, antiseptic and some chemical scent from the medication.

Foggy's snores filled the room, loud as always, but slow and occasionally accompanied by a soft, involuntary whimper. Matt wondered if pain, or distress that had followed his mate even into sleep, was the cause of the quiet cries.

He crept closer to the bed, moving as if he were trying to avoid waking its occupant. He knew such cares were unnecessary. Foggy slept heavily under normal circumstances, and at the moment he had enough drugs in his system, that even if he were the lightest of sleepers, there would be little that could rouse him before morning. Still, approaching any other way seemed disrespectful.

Just short of the bed, Matt stopped dead in his tracks. His fingers itched with the urge to reach out and touch his mate. He longed to feel the comforting, alive, warmth of his omega's skin under his fingertips. He also knew he wouldn’t be able to rest until he'd mentally catalogued all of Foggy's injuries. 

The omega was just a few feet in front of him, but guilt held him fast. He hadn't been there. The city had exploded and gone up in flames, and he'd been on the other side of the neighborhood holed up with a Russian mobster and talking to a psychopath over a radio, instead of protecting his omega.

Foggy had run through an apartment building injured and bleeding, completely unaware of his own needs, and without anyone to look out for him. Then, he'd worried himself into a panic over Matt, until he needed to be drugged; all because Matt couldn't even pick up a phone.

Matt may not have planted the bombs, like everyone seemed to think he did, but that didn't mean he wasn't responsible for Foggy's condition. A good alpha would have _been there_.

Foggy whimpered again; louder and longer this time, and Matt closed the space between them without thinking about it. He reached out and caressed his cheek with the back of his hand, acting on instinct before his guilt could stop him.

The response was immediate. Foggy nuzzled the hand and quieted, all while remaining fast asleep. It was humbling, seeing the effect he had on his mate. The way his better half responded to him with so much trust and openness, even while he was unconscious. Surely he didn’t deserve that kind of trust.

He took full advantage of the omega's instinctive urge to move closer anyway. He ran questing hands over Foggy's now relaxed face, down his neck and over his chest, feeling his sluggish heartbeat under his fingertips along the way. He ran his careful fingers over a half dozen bruises on his shoulders, arms and torso, and eventually traced the line of neat stitches closing up the gash over Foggy's ribs. 

The laceration was a few inches long, but thankful not deep enough to have done any damage to the lung underneath it. All told, Foggy had been lucky, and other than the gash, he had escaped with minor scratches and bruises.

Inspection done, Matt's hands moved to rest on Foggy's lower, central abdomen, as if they had a mind of their own. If the nurses were to be believed, under his hands was a tiny, new life in the making. The result of his union with Foggy.

He wondered . . . .leaning down carefully, he gently rested his ear where his hands had been, and concentrated.

It was a long shot. Foggy's heat had only been about a month and a half ago, and while Matt seemed to recall that that should mean their baby's heart was already beating, it seemed to him that he had heard something about Doppler not being able to reliably pick up a fetal heartbeat until around eight weeks. Then again, who knew how his enhanced hearing compared to Doppler technology.

He barely had time to consider that idea before the faint, hummingbird fast beating of his baby's, no wait, _babies'_ hearts reached his ears. Three. There were three heartbeats.

Foggy was pregnant. Pregnant with triplets. How had this happened?


	3. Freaking Out

Matt paced the small space alongside Foggy's hospital bed. It was fair to say he was freaking out.

Triplets?!? He and Foggy could barely afford to support themselves! How would they afford the diapers, and food, and everything else that they’d need for three babies?!?

What about Foggy? How risky was this pregnancy for him? Multiples always posed at least a little higher risk. What if carrying them was dangerous for his mate?

Potential complications aside, Foggy was going to be huge. He was going to be off-balance, stretched to capacity, and vulnerable; all during a time when Matt had pissed off some very bad people. 

What if someone followed him home after a night in the mask, and found Foggy in the apartment? That would be a nightmare under any circumstances, but now that Foggy’s pregnant the word 'nightmare' didn’t seem strong enough.

He supposed that he could ask Foggy to continue to stay with Karen, but that had its own problems. 

The healthiest living situation for an expectant omega was with their bonded mate, surrounded by their calming pheromones. (At least that's what Web MD said). Separated from their mate, it was not uncommon for pregnant omegas to have more severe morning sickness and general trouble keeping food down, and to experience severe insomnia and/or depression. Plus, the risk of developing complications such as gestational diabetes or preeclampsia increased sharply. Furthermore, if Foggy viewed Matt's suggestion as a rejection of either him or their children, his risk of miscarriage could increase exponentially. (Matt was starting to regret the internet research he had done while he was waiting for his mate to wake up.)

Everything Matt's phone had read to him seemed to say that Foggy needed to move back in with Matt to have the safest, happiest, and healthiest pregnancy possible. And while Matt wanted nothing more than for Foggy's pregnancy to be safe, happy and healthy, he couldn’t help but wonder what effect finding out your mate is a vigilante could have on a pregnancy. Was that better or worse than living away from one's alpha? (The internet didn’t have anything to say about that). Because, there’s no doubt that Foggy would find out if he moved back in. 

Matt was self-aware enough to know that he’s not going to stop going out in the mask. He’s also realistic enough to know that no matter how sound a sleeper Foggy was, he would eventually wake up in the night and realize that Matt wasn’t there, or catch Matt coming home injured, or find some other evidence of Matt's night life. Then he'd put the pieces together, and learn Matt's secret. Then, all hell would break lose, because Foggy would realize Matt had been lying to him since the beginning; and that he had continued lying even as they became friends, and then best friends, and then dated, and bonded . . .and he'd be so hurt and betrayed . . .who knew what he’d do. He might leave Matt forever, and that would be unbearable.

Matt knew there were two things he absolutely needed in his life. One of them was Foggy, and the other was the mask. If only they both didn't make it nearly impossible to have the other.

In the back of his mind, a voice suggested that Matt should come clean. Just tell Foggy about the mask before he got in any deeper, or Foggy found out on his own. Yet a louder voice argued that Foggy was hurt, and he should wait until he'd had a chance to heal before he sprang any life-altering secrets on him. Besides, a bombing, followed by finding out he was pregnant was probably enough excitement for Foggy for awhile.


	4. Cheating, Drugs, or Owing Money to the Mob

"Matt?" questioned Foggy softly.

"Huh?" groaned Matt.

When had he fallen asleep?

"This isn't a dream, right? 

You're here. You're safe, and you're here . . . . Matty, I was so worried. 

You weren't answering your phone, and part of me was afraid that . . That you weren't answering because you _couldn't_ answer, because, because . . . ." Foggy trailed off, his voice sounding choked.

His heart rate had increased to a pace that resembled a steady jog, and he was giving off a subtle scent of distress. All told, he smelled less anxious than the remnants of his fear sweat had when Matt arrived the night before, but it was still enough to tug at Matt's heart.

He stood and walked the two steps it took to wrap his omega up in his arms, careful to avoid his stitches, and hold him tight.

"I'm here," he whispered against his hair. "I'm here, Fog. 

I'm okay, and I'm so glad that you're going to be okay."

"It's barely a scratch," Foggy commented flippantly. "Better in no time."

"Sure, but until 'no time' is up, you need to take it easy. Take a few days off of work."

"Says Mr. 'No Foggy, I can't stop studying, even if I do have a fever of one hundred five and should probably be in the hospital.'"

"I needed to pass that class!"

"I need to work so we don't starve!"

"Come on, Foggy. You need to rest. If not for you, then for the babies."

"I _am_ thinking of the baby. I'm eating for two . . .wait, you know I'm pregnant? 

Of course you do, they must have told you. . . but, wait, did you say 'babies'?

What do you know, Matt?"

Shit. How was Matt going to explain how he knew Foggy was carrying more than one baby?

"I have a hunch."

"A hunch, huh? You know you're a terrible liar, right?

What do you know?"

"Triplets. You're having triplets."

"Triplets? How? How do you know?"

"There are three heartbeats."

"Three heartbeats? How do you know . . . They ran tests last night? An ultrasound or something?

But they would only do that if . . . Were they worried something had happened? Was there some complication? 

Are my babies okay, Matt?"

"Don't worry, Foggy. Everything's okay. Just, better safe than sorry, right?"

"Yeah . . . Yes, I guess. Just, why did they wait until after I was knocked out? I mean if it was just a precaution. . ."

"Maybe they didn't want to worry you? Sounds like you were under a lot of stress last night."

"That makes sense . . . . so, triplets, huh? Wow."

Foggy let out a deep sigh, and silence fell between them. His heart rate had slowed a little, but remained quick, and Matt was at a loss to read the quiet. 

Was Foggy worried? He didn’t seem as vocally nervous as he had about Matt's absence, or the idea that something was wrong with their babies, but it was still a lot to take in, and a silent Foggy was unnerving.

"Look, I know it's a lot, and you weren't expecting . . ."

"No! I mean, yes, it is unexpected . . .and yes, it is a lot, but, I'm not upset about it.

If anything, . . . is it bad if I'm really, really excited?

I know the timing could be better. We're just starting our firm, and I'll have to go on paternity leave before we've even been open a year. And we have no money. We can barely afford ourselves, and one baby would be a stretch, so three is going to be nearly impossible . . . But, we're going to be parents. We're going to bring three new, perfect, little lives into the world. I can't wait to meet them."

Foggy's words spoke of his excitement, but his tone was level and cautious. Something wasn’t right.

"You sound awfully hesitant for a man who says he's excited."

"It's just . . . . . What do you think about all of this, Matt? Do you want this?"

"Of course I do."

"Really?"

"Yes!"

"It's just . . . . " (Matt was starting to hate those words, and the reluctance with which they were spoken) ". . .we haven't even been living under the same roof anymore. 

I mean, it was one thing when I was staying at my sister's for a few days, because you thought there might be someone who followed us back to our apartment when we took in Karen for the night. Since she was attacked at _her own_ apartment, it seemed unlikely, but you can be overprotective, and I wanted to help calm your nerves.

Then, I stayed out late with Karen that night a few days later, and I suggested I stay with her a night or two, just to help her get back on her feet, and you were so understanding . . . but somehow a couple of nights has become _weeks_ , Matt. 

_**Weeks**_ of you shoving me into a cab with Karen at the end of the day, and bring more and more of my stuff to the office to take to her place. 

Then there's the asking me if I think Karen'll be alright on her own if I do anything that even vaguely looks like I want to home with you instead of going with her. It's like you don't want me to come home, and at some point, I just became too afraid to ask, because I was scared you'd say as much."

Matt flinched at Foggy's account of the last few weeks. He hadn't thought that was how his actions had looked to Foggy, but the omega just sounded so hurt. He could hardly bear the glimpse of pain he's letting show.

"Foggy . . ."

"But I can't continue to avoid the subject. I'm pregnant. I'm going to be a father, and I need to know what I'm getting into . . .so tell me plainly, are you done with me?"

Foggy's voice wavered a little, but he sounded brave and determined, even as his heart gave what sounded like a particularly painful squeeze followed by a tripping, double thump. Leave it to his omega to face things head on, even when he was afraid.

Still, admiration aside, Matt was having trouble processing the content of what Foggy had said, so all he could spit out in response was one disbelieving word.

"What?!?"

"You sent me away, Matt. I've been trying to deny it, but come on, Murdock. I may have initiated the actual arrangement, but are you telling me that keeping me at Karen's for weeks on end isn't some form of trial separation?"

"No, Foggy, it's not! I wouldn't . . . . I'm not done with you. I'll never be done with you. I love you."

"Then why don't you want to be with me? 

You treat me like I'm nothing more than your work colleague. You hardly spend any time with me outside of office hours. 

There are casual work friends who spend more time together than we do. They might get dinner or drinks after work. We never do.

You've even stopped kissing me. Not even a hello kiss when we meet up at the office, or a good-bye kiss at the end of the work day. 'No PDA in the office', which let's be clear, is the only place we meet anymore."

Wait, was that true? Had he stopped? It seemed he had. 

It was a combination of wanting to keep the workplace professional, and knowing that if he let himself be too close to Foggy, he'd crumble and bring the omega back to their apartment, and into the chaos that his life had become. It just had become so ingrained in his mind that he needed to keep Foggy away from it all, that he didn't think about the reasons or what he was missing out on anymore.

"I . . . It's com-"

"Yeah, yeah, it's complicated. 

Complicated like you're seeing someone else?"

"What?! No! Why would you think-"

"Complicated like you owe money to the mob?"

"No! Foggy-"

"Fight club? Drugs?"

"Where is all of this coming from?"

"You don't want me in the apartment. You've been avoiding me. . . .and all of the sudden you have these bruises and other unexplained injuries.

First guess, you're seeing someone on the side, and getting kinky with them like you did with Elektra. You were bruised up all the time when you were with her.

Second guess, you're in some kind of trouble, and you foolishly, though somewhat nobly, think you need to protect me from it, and face it on your own. So, mob, fight club, or drugs?"

"None of the above, Foggy."

"Well, something's certainly going on."

"You're right, but, can't it wait? I feel like telling you right after you've literally been stabbed in the side isn't a good idea. 

Can you wait a few days, so I know you've recovered a little?"

He could take a couple of nights off while he was waiting to tell him. Honestly, he'd been planning on staying home a couple of nights with Foggy anyway; just to make sure the other man was truly okay. The whole ordeal from the previous night had left Matt feeling too raw and worried for him to do anything else.

"That bad, huh?"

"Just better safe than sorry."

"Just to be clear, you want me? You're not leaving me? 

Or do I have to wait a couple of days to find that out too?"

"I love you, and I'm not leaving you. Not ever. 'Til death do us part, Nelson."

He punctuated his answer with a brief kiss to Foggy's forehead.

"Okay," answered Foggy neutrally, but Matt could feel the uncertainty he was trying to hide like a weight on his shoulders.


	5. Despite Best Intentions

Matt had really meant to take a few nights off from the mask. He'd been sincere when he'd promised himself he would wait until Foggy knew before we went out again. He had meant it, and yet, after everything that had happened in the last few days, he couldn't stay away.

It started the day after Foggy was released from the hospital, when Elena Cardenas walked back into their office.

Fisk had taken over for Tully and he was offering more money she said. Her neighbors wanted to take it. She didn't know what to do.

Matt thought back to his conversation with Fisk the other night. Thought about Fisk's public debut. The man was determined. He would do anything, say whatever it took, hurt anyone who got in his way. 

She should get far away from him. Take the money and run.

He was about to tell her as much, when he realized that Foggy had already told her to stand strong, and they would stand with her. Stand with her against Fisk.

No! It was too dangerous! The mere thought of Foggy anywhere near anything related to Fisk made Matt feel like his heart was being squeezed in a giant fist.

He pulled Foggy aside to try to dissuade him, but between Mrs. Cardenas' joyful declarations of how good they were and Foggy turning his own words from earlier back on him, he had no choice but to go with the flow. They would help. They would stand against Fisk . . .and if things started to go south, he would kill him before he had the chance to go anywhere near his Foggy. 

Killing Fisk went from a faint musing about cutting off the head of the snake to try and stop the evil that had been lurking in the streets, to a real possibility. One that required Matt to be prepared; to gather information. So he went to the art gallery to chat with Vanessa Marianna.

Ms. Marianna was a petite omega with a bright laugh, and an obsession with art that went beyond professional interest. She was also clearly in love with Wilson Fisk.

Fisk seemed equally devoted to her. He had loomed over Matt, fending off the possibility of a challenge from another alpha, while wrapping Vanessa in a protective arm, and remaining tender in every detail of his interaction with her. 

In a twisted way, it reminded him of his relationship with Foggy. Matt would unleash the devil inside of him on anyone who dared to even imagine doing wrong against Foggy; blood, pain and completely justified suffering awaited any such person. With Foggy though, Matt was gentle as a lamb, and would never dream of being anything but kind, careful and loving.

Matt observed Fisk with Vanessa, and he couldn't help but think of what it would do to _her_ if he killed Fisk. She would be heartbroken. The pair weren't bonded, but Matt still knew it would be a heavy blow to the omega. 

It was enough to make him reconsider. . . .until Foggy got a call, asking them to come down to the precinct and identify Elena Cardenas' body.

Matt had no words to describe how he felt as he took in the too still and silent figure, that still faintly smelled of spices and home-cooking beneath the stretch of congealed blood, laid out before them on a cold, metal slab.

Multiple stab wounds. Ambushed by a junkie outside the door to her apartment. Rough neighborhood; bad luck. 

That's what they were told, but Matt didn't believe it for a minute. This was Fisk. It had to be. This brave, old woman had stood against him, and now she was dead. It was the only thing that made sense.

Fisk had her killed. He wouldn't stand for any opposition and . . .

Karen interrupted his thoughts. She gasped, and started sobbing. The smell of salt filling the air as her tears rolled down her cheeks.

Foggy froze, and remained silent for a long moment. His heart betrayed his emotion, thundering in his chest, but outwardly the only sign he gave was the pair of slightly shaky breaths he took before firmly placing his facade of calm.

His voice was slightly choked, though only just, and maybe only in Matt's hearing since he knew the omega so well, as he confirmed Mrs. Cardenas' identity for Brett. More than anything, he sounded numb. Suspended in disbelief, even as he asked about her family, and finding she had none, volunteered to make funeral arrangements.

Brett put an arm around the omega and gave his shoulder a squeeze. 

"You're a good man," the officer responded. "And you have my condolences."

Foggy thanked him, and started walking out of the room, as Matt and Karen followed numbly behind him. He led them to the curb, and helped Karen get a cab, and then he crumbled. 

The smell of his tears and the sound of soft sniffles and hitched breaths had Matt reaching out to hold the omega on autopilot. He cradled Foggy to him, feeling numb until one thought broke through the haze. . . . _ **Protect Foggy**_. His scattered thoughts rushed back in an instant. Fisk had Elena killed for opposing him, and Foggy had helped her. He might come after Foggy next. 

Wilson Fisk needed to die. There was no more hesitancy. No more doubt. The man had killed, and he would kill again if Matt didn't stop him.

That certainty only grew when he and Foggy made their way back to their apartment, and the omega locked himself in the bedroom to grieve alone.

He couldn't comfort Foggy, but he could protect him, so he put on his gear, and he headed out quietly through the roof access.

~~~~~

Everything hurt, and there was blood everywhere. His blood. Pouring out of his body so quickly he was surprised each time he managed another step.

His body felt impossibly heavy, but he needed to keep moving forward. If he stopped . . . .he couldn’t stop, because if he did he’d never get home to Foggy, and he _needed_ to get home to Foggy.

Through some miracle he made his way back into his apartment. His halting, stumbling steps dragged him back inside. Back to the sound of Foggy's voice, though he was too far gone to even register what Foggy’s saying, until he was lying flat on his back and he heard a gasped "Matt" as the world faded to nothingness.


	6. Truth and Failure

Noise, so much noise. A cacophony of discordant sounds that briefly blocked . . .oh! Searing pain. Why did it hurt so much?

Memory returned in flashes for Matt. The zing of a blade through the air. The growl Fisk had let out before the mountain of a man had descended on him. Desperation. Fighting and clawing his way home to . . .( _Matt_ whispered broken and surprised). . . Foggy!

Where was Foggy? He tried to sit up, but his body protested.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." 

Foggy! The omega was right there! He was safe!

"Then again, maybe I would. 

What the hell do I know about Matt Murdock?!"

Angry. He sounded so angry. Voice bitter and fragile. His heart pounding a war drum. He moved closer, and even his gait sounded like a rebuke as he knelt down closer to Matt.

"I mean, he's my mate. We're bonded, but apparently that doesn't mean anything."

Foggy stood and started to pace, his feet moving quickly and angrily, as he continued his rant.

"It apparently doesn't mean that he shares his life with me, because he's living a double life as a street-fighting vigilante. 

Then again, maybe I shouldn't be surprised that he's not sharing his life with me, because until recently he wasn't even living with me.

I guess the question is, does he think so little of our bond that honesty, you know the foundation of good relationships, is optional, or does he just not want to be bound to me anymore?"

That wasn't right. Foggy was twisting things. It wasn't either of those. 

"How . . .how could you say that, Foggy?"

That wasn't what Matt meant to say, but he was in too much pain to filter back the response. He'd meant to try to make him understand that neither was the case, but thinking was hard, and so was forming words. For once, he found himself at a complete loss to plead his case.

"I don't know, maybe because you lied to me? 

You lied about something big that could have significant consequences not only for you, but also for me. . .and our whole family.

And, you didn't lie once or twice. You lied repeatedly.

The Devil of Hell's Kitchen has been around for months, so you've been lying to me _for months_ about what you've been doing at night."

"Foggy, I-"

Matt tried to interrupt to explain, but Foggy continued right over him.

"So with all of that lying going on, you must feel like a mountain of lies between mates isn't a big deal."

"Foggy! That's not true! You know that's not true . . .besides, it's not like you were completely honest either.

The nurses at the hospital said that you thought you were pregnant when you came in, that you were planning to take a home pregnancy test, but you hadn't said anything to me. 

Don't you think that was big enough for me to know? Don't you think that affected me too?"

"Don't try to change the subject, Murdock!

Besides, _I_ didn't think I was pregnant. Karen did. 

I'd been getting nauseated, having trouble keeping down my breakfast, and feeling tired all the time, so she decided that must mean I was pregnant. 

I was pretty sure she was wrong, but I told her I would take a pregnancy test to humor her . . . Turns out the hospital had to run a blood test before I got the chance, and she was actually right."

"Wait, if you didn't think you were pregnant, what did you think was going on?"

"Actually that brings me to my second point which is, maybe you didn't feel like you had to tell me anything, because you were counting on the fact I wouldn't be around much longer. 

I was growing more and more certain that you wanted me to stay away indefinitely. You kept sending more clothes, more of my things, to the office everyday. Like you were moving me out . . .and you were always quick with a reason why I was going home with Karen at the end of the day. 

It seemed like you'd ask me to break our bond any day, and then I got sick, so I figured that had to be it."

"What?!?"

Matt ran the words through his head again, and didn’t like what he was now nearly certain that Foggy was saying.

"No! Foggy, you thought . . . Abandoned Omega Syndrome? 

You thought you were sick because I rejected you?!?

Why didn't you say anything?!?"

"Well, it made more sense than anything else . . . But how could I ask you?

More importantly, why would I do that? So you could finally reject me unambiguously, to my face?

If I didn't ask, I could hold out the hope I was wrong. If I did . . .

I mean, either you didn't want me anymore, and it would just confirm that, which terrified me . . . .or I was wrong, and then you'd know I'd doubted our relationship enough to think you were rejecting me, and that would just hurt you and worry you.

Neither option seemed very appealing.

I figured everything would have to come out eventually, so I'd just wait and see."

"Wait to see if I was rejecting you? Foggy, that's awful."

"Not as awful as the fact that I'm honestly still not sure that you're not.

I mean, do you really want to be bonded with me?

Not just feel like you _should_ , or that you have an _obligation_ to be with me.

Do you _**want**_ to be with me?"

"Foggy, of course I do. I told you I wanted you when you were in the hospital. Where is this coming from?"

"You said you weren't leaving me; you said we were together 'until death do us part,' but you never said you wanted me. . . and you had just found out I was pregnant. You're the type of alpha that would stay in a relationship he didn't want for the sake of his children. You're even the type who would stay in a relationship because the Catholic Church doesn't accept bond-breaking. Add in the babies, and you could absolutely hate me, and you would still never leave me."

Oh, that hurt. It hurt in ways Matt never imagined he could hurt.

"Foggy, I could never hate you. I-"

"You kept me away until you figured out I was pregnant. Then you asked me to come back, and you said you loved me, but it was probably out of some form of obligation and Catholic guilt. 'Trying to do right by me,' or something like that, because I'm carrying your children.

Because before you knew, you were moving me out of the apartment we once shared. 

Try to deny it, Murdock. Almost every stitch of clothing I own was at Karen's place, and most of my blankets, my books, my random little gifts from my family. We took dozens of trips back and forth to move all of my stuff back here. There was far more of it there than here in the end.

Why else would you move me out, except if you didn't want me?"

Matt wanted to tell him that he wasn't trying to move him out, it was just that every morning he ran into something that belonged to Foggy. And each time, he would stop to run his fingers over it, and smell the lingering odor of Foggy on it, because the omega's absence hurt like he was missing a limb. Any reminder of his mate, no matter how small, felt like a miracle, and he'd find himself wondering as his fingers traveled over the treasured object, if Foggy would want it or need it. Then he'd find himself packing up the things he came across to give them to Foggy, just in case. Just in case he wanted his gray suit. Just in case he got cold and wanted an extra quilt. Just in case he wanted to read that particular book.

He wanted to let Foggy know, but all that came out was stuttering.

"That's not . . . It's- I don't-"

"At least that would make sense. If you wanted me out of your life, then you'd have no reason to tell me about your secret life. 

What you do wouldn't be my business if I wasn't your mate anymore, and maybe you were counting down the days until you were free. 

Then you hit a snag. I got hurt, and you felt bad. Then, even worse, you found out I'm having your babies. So we're still bonded, even though maybe you don't want me; maybe you don't even love me anymore . . .because you could never leave an expectant omega. Not even if that omega is a weight dragging you down and preventing you from doing what you really love, which is apparently beating up criminals in the streets."

Matt's body was riddled with literal cuts, but none of them were as perfectly aimed or gutting as the metaphorical blade of Foggy's words. He felt the eviscerating anger; the words that pierced deep, like a knife straight to the heart. If Foggy truly believed any of what he said . . . 

"How could think I would abandon you? 

How could you doubt that I love you? That I will always want you in my life?

You don't drag me down, Foggy. I love you.

Despite any troubles we've had in the last few months, I thought I'd showed you that over the years we've been together. 

Do you really think I've been pretending to care about you all this time?!?"

"I think that I'm not sure _what_ to think anymore.

For you to be as skilled at fighting as you are **AND** be blind, you must have been lying to me about _something_ for **years**. Literally since I met you.

There's no other explanation. Either you're not really blind, or there's something else going on that you've neglected to mention in all our years together.

So if you've been lying about **that** since the beginning, who knows what else you lied about? Who knows what, if **_anything_** , between us is real?!"

Matt let out a distraught sob at the accusation, the metaphorical knife twisted in his heart, as Foggy stilled his pacing.

The omega paused to take a long swig from a bottle. (No! Foggy was pregnant! He shouldn't be drinking!). Then he leaned closer to Matt to continue speaking, the strong odor of Pepto-Bismol, (oh . . .oh!), lingering on his breath. He paused and then seemed to change his mind, however, and settled himself in a chair across from the couch to stew silently.

Matt tried to sit up, thinking maybe if he could face Foggy, he could start to address some of this. The task seemed too big to face lying down, but the movement pulled at the dozens of stitches in his back and torso. He found himself unable to move very far before he lowered himself back down carefully, his breath punching out in a pained hiss.

How could he do this? How could he fix this, when he couldn’t even sit up? When he was more or less being held together with sutures and a prayer?

Speaking of which . . .

"Did you patch me up?"

Yes, it was a change in topics. No, it didn't answer any of Foggy's questions or fears, but Matt wasn’t really feeling up to that task at the moment. Maybe if he could just keep Foggy talking he won’t decide they’re done and run away, and Matt would have time to gather his thoughts. (Also, he’s genuinely curious).

"No, that was your nurse friend, Claire. 

I called her after you pulled my phone out of my hand and took a swing at me for trying to call an ambulance."

"I tried to hit you?" Matt asked in horror. "I don't remember that."

"Well, you had lost a lot of blood, and were pretty much at death's door. It's not surprising that you don't remember."

Foggy took another long pull of the antacid.

"So you met Claire?" Matt tried; hoping to shift the topic to something slightly less upsetting.

"Yeah. She seemed nice."

Foggy seemed reluctant to admit that, but he also sounded calmer, so at least that was something. Maybe if Matt could keep him small talking it would help.

"She is."

"Although, I have to say, having an attractive omega's phone number in a burner cell seems pretty suspicious."

Matt winced. His plan took a turn.

"I'm not cheating on you."

He hoped that the simple, honest way he said it would get through.

"Maybe not, but it doesn't change the fact that she knew about the Devil, and I didn't.

I'm your mate, and some woman I've never met knows more about you than I do!"

"It's not like that!"

. . .and just like that, they were screaming at each other again. Matt was too tired for this, but he knew he couldn’t disengage. Not without risking Foggy leaving; possibly forever.

At least if Foggy was yelling at him, he was still there. He's clearly infuriated, but he still wanted to talk to Matt, so maybe that meant he hadn’t written them off as a complete loss yet.

"Are you saying she didn't know about the mask? Because she sure didn't seem surprised!"

"No, she knew, but-"

"So you chose to tell a stranger about your nighttime hobby before you told your mate!"

"I didn't tell her! She found me bleeding out in a dumpster and helped me! I was in the mask, so I couldn't exactly lie about it!"

"But you were fine with lying to me!"

"I wasn't 'fine' with it! I hated every second!"

"You still lied to me!

You've still been lying to me since day one!"

Well, now that they've circled back, Matt didn’t suppose he could continue avoiding the subject.

"I'm really blind, Foggy. No light perception," Matt murmured.

"Then, how do you do it?

The fighting?"

"My other senses, they're heightened. 

I can't see, but I can use the way sound echoes through a space, changes in air pressure, movement, temperature variations, smell, a thousand little things . . .and put them together to make a picture. 

They create an impressionistic painting in my head; a world on fire, that helps me understand what's around me. It makes it possible for me to just know things, and it allows me to do things that I wouldn't otherwise be able to do."

"What exactly does that mean?!? 'World on fire'? 'Just know things'? What things do you 'just know'?"

"It's hard to explain . . ."

"Try," Foggy demanded; his voice made of steel. 

Matt considered his options, and decided to go with the most direct route.

"I know the lights are off, because they're not making any noise; they hum when they're on.

It's mid-morning, and the curtains are opened, based on the heat coming in from the window.

I know you haven't showered since yesterday morning, but you rinsed your face with water from the kitchen sink. Probably to try to hide the fact you've been crying, but I can still smell the tears, and your eyes are still a little puffy based on the slightly increased temperature around your eyes from the swelling.

You also didn't sleep last night, and you're tired. Your shoulders are drooping, and you've held back at least two yawns since we started talking.

You haven't eaten since lunch yesterday, and you're hungry, but you don't feel like eating because your stomach is upset. You've been chugging Pepto-Bismol, and you're three-fourths of the way through that bottle, but you've already finished one that's sitting empty on the counter.

You're also scared. You have been this whole time, but it's only gotten worse since I started explaining. 

Your heart rate has been elevated since I regained consciousness, but your heart's been beating noticeably faster with each new thing I tell you."

"Wait. You can hear a heartbeat, from across a room?"

Matt nodded.

"Farther, even. It helps me interpret people's reactions. Anticipate their behavior. Tell if they're lying."

"'Tell if they're lying'?

Wait, is that how you knew Karen was telling the truth?"

Matt nodded again, and Foggy scoffed.

"So you essentially ran a polygraph on her without her permission. 

We can't do that, Matt! We're lawyers! That's extremely unethical! You can't go around polygraphing the world!"

"Foggy-"

"Wait, does that mean you knew every time I told a lie?"

Foggy's voice sounded shaky and broken, and Matt wanted to reassure him. However, he also knew that he needed to be honest, or he'd just make things worse, so he took a deep breath before giving the answer he knew would do anything but help.

"Yes, pretty much."

"Great! So not only did you lie to me, and keep secrets . . .but all the while it was _impossible_ for me to keep anything from you. . . .and the few times that I tried, you what? Just played along?!?"

"Foggy, I-"

"You should have told me!"

"Oh yeah, 'hi, my name is Matt Murdock. When I was a kid I went blind when some chemicals spilled in my eyes, but they also gave me enhanced senses, so I can hear your heartbeat, and I'll know if you're lying, so don't even try.'

You would've put in for a room transfer so fast I would've gotten whiplash."

"I didn't say you should have led with that, but what about once we were friends?! Or when we were dating?!

I mean, you _definitely_ should have told me before we bonded!"

"I know. I know. I just . . . ."

"Just what? Didn't think I could handle it?"

"No! I just didn't know how to tell you.

First, I hardly knew you, and the more time that passed, the weirder it seemed to bring it up.

I wanted to. I did. I almost told you a dozen times or more. . .but each time I was going to do it, I heard Stick's voice in my head telling me not to do it. Reminding me I was freak, and anyone who knew would leave as quickly as they could . . . And I just, I couldn't lose you."

"Still not an excuse . . .and Stick? Please tell me that's a person, not that one of the things you 'just know' is how to talk to trees."

"No, Stick was the man who trained me. He was blind like me. Well, sort of.

He taught me how to control my senses, because after my dad died, everything was just too much. It was so loud, and everything was overwhelming.

He also taught me that I didn't need to use my eyes. That sight was a distraction.

He taught me how to fight. That I could be useful. Control my body. Have a purpose . . .but it turned out he really wanted a weapon, and when he realized I wanted to be more than that, he left me."

Foggy made a soft noise of sympathy.

"He sounds like an asshole."

Matt chuckled softly, but humorlessly, at Foggy's blunt assessment. In his head, he knew Foggy was right. He knew Stick hadn't done right by him. That he had been a child, and Stick was an adult, and whatever help he had provided Matt, he had also misused his power over him and then abandoned him. Yet somewhere in his heart, he still felt like he owed Stick for all he had taught him, and he wondered if he had been just a little better, if maybe he wouldn't have been left behind.

"Matt, you know it wasn't your fault right?" Foggy broke in tentatively.

The omega knew him too well; though he’s slightly surprised that Foggy had dropped his anger and accusations long enough to try to comfort Matt. (He shouldn't be. Foggy was always taking care of people).

"I'm not quite sure what wanting you to be a weapon would entail, but I'm pretty sure it would involve a whole lot of things that no child should have to endure.

You weren't wrong to say no. And if that Stick guy left you because of that, he's better out of your life, even if it didn't feel like it.

None of which changes the fact that you were a kid, and him leaving was not your fault. That's entirely on him, and he definitely missed out, because you're pretty amazing . . . Even if I am still really, really angry at you right now."

A moment of peace settled between them, but it was quickly broken by Foggy's cell phone.

"Hello?"

Matt started to tune out. Sinking into the couch and closing his eyes, feeling relaxed for the first time since he’d awoken. He could really use more rest . . . .but wait, Foggy's heart was racing; speeding faster and faster by the second.

He tuned back into the conversation just in time to hear Foggy say, "okay, thanks . . .bye."

"Who was that?" (And why did what they say upset you so much, he carefully didn’t add. No need to draw addition attention to his senses.)

"Couldn't you hear with your super ears, or whatever?"

Uh oh, Foggy was snapping again, and Matt didnt know if it was because of something he did, something the person on the phone told him, or both. Still, he wasn’t going to snap back. It wouldn’t help anything.

He kept his voice calm, and said, "It doesn't work like that. I have to concentrate. Focus on letting it in."

"Oh . . .that was Brett. They found the man who killed Elena."

"Good." 

He actually turned himself in. Matt was a little surprised.

"They had to scrape him off the sidewalk. . . Did you do that?"

"What?! No! Foggy I told him to turn himself in. I wouldn't- I'd never-"

"Did you plant those bombs? Shoot those cops?" 

Were you the one who hurt me? Foggy didn’t say, but Matt heard it anyway; tears filling his eyes as he realized how far he must have fallen for Foggy to ever ask him that.

Matt knew Foggy didn’t have the highest opinion of the man in the mask. He’d been quite vocal about it after the bombing. But Matt had assumed that his feelings might change a little when he learned that the previously faceless man was actually Matt. 

He didn’t expect Foggy to be okay with Matt being in danger, or breaking the law, but he thought maybe he would be more critical about what the news reports said once he knew the Devil of Hell's Kitchen had been Matt all along. Surely he knew Matt would never do those things . . . .only apparently he didn’t.

"Do you even have to ask me that?" he choked out between his tears.

Foggy _knew him_. A couple of lies between them, even bigs ones, didn’t change that.

"I think I do," Foggy said back, his voice just as choked, but still somehow determined and hard.

"I-it was F-Fisk. It w-was all F-Fisk," Matt stammered on barely-controlled sobs.

"Fisk? Is he the one who did this to you?"

Matt nodded, "Him and Nobu."

"Nobu? Who's Nobu?"

"I think he's some kind of ninja."

"Ninja?"

Foggy sounded like he doubted Matt, but there was something underneath his disbelief that seemed almost sympathic. At least Matt chose to believe there was.

"I think so."

"Matt what are you even doing out there?! 

Beating people up. Taking on ninjas. You're going to get yourself killed!

Why?! Why take all of this on?!

We have cops for a reason. You don't need to do this!"

"Foggy, do you remember how I started having trouble sleeping right before we left Landman and Zack?"

"Yeah."

"It was because down the street from us, there was a little girl, and at night her alpha father would sneak into her room and . . ."

Foggy made an upset noise and cursed. His hands ran over fabric as they settled on his midsection, the action seemingly involuntary. Matt took the hint and stopped. No need to say it, or upset the omega further, Foggy understood.

". . . So I called Child Protective Services, like you're supposed to, but this alpha, he was smart. The things he did to her, didn't leave a mark . . . And her omega father, he didn't believe that his husband would do such a thing, so nothing happened. There was no justice. Not for that little girl.

Until . . .I knew where the alpha would be. I knew his routine. So one night, I was waiting for him.

I told him, he was going to leave his daughter alone. I stopped him, when no one else would, or could.

He spent the next couple of weeks drinking his meals through a straw, and I never slept better."

"You broke a man's jaw! A bad man, maybe, but you still broke his jaw, and you sound proud of yourself for it!" 

"I am proud of myself. I made sure justice was done. I protected that little girl. 

You can't tell me you wouldn't have done everything you could to protect her."

"You 'made sure justice was done'?! By breaking the law, and another person's bones?!"

"Sometimes a more subtle approach doesn't work."

"Well your way is illegal, and it's pretty frightening. . . . I mean, how far is there between beating someone to a pulp in the name of 'justice,' and killing someone for the greater good? 

You're already playing judge and jury. How long before you decide someone's sentence should be death? How long before you add executioner to the list?"

"I wouldn't do that. I won't."

"You've never . . ."

"Never! I've never killed anyone . . .but I wanted to. Last night, I thought I knew where Fisk was going to be, so I went there to kill him."

"You were going to kill him?!?"

"He killed Elena, Foggy. She decided to fight back, she got in his way, so he pointed a desperate junkie her way.

So, I started thinking, if that's what he does to people who get in his way, then he might come after us next; he might come after you . . .and I couldn't risk that."

"Let me get this straight, you went out last night to kill a man, because he _might_ try to hurt me."

"You're my mate! You're the only family I have! I need to protect you!"

"By killing someone?!?"

"If I need to."

Foggy shook his head vigorously, his hair swishing back and forth with the motion.

"I don't want you to kill anyone for me.

I wish you wouldn't do any of this at all!

I don't need the mask! I need my mate! I need my mate safe, and home, and not fighting in the street!"

"I'm sorry, Foggy. I want to be there for you, and I'll do the best I can . . .but this city needs me in the mask. I can't just stop. Not without people getting hurt."

"Can't stop, or won't stop?"

"Both."

"So you enjoy this? Beating people up? Taking the law into your fists?"

"Foggy, I can't do nothing when people are suffering all over the city."

"But you can let your own mate suffer for weeks, thinking you were planning to leave him and were just too afraid to say it. You were willing to let me cry myself to sleep night after night while you went out and played hero.

So you may claim to love me, you may say you want me, and that you would never abandon me, but the truth is, you already did. Those weeks you left me to wonder what I had done, and why you didn't want me anymore, you abandoned me so you could beat people up in a mask, without having to explain all the messy details to me.

So basically, I come second to the city, and the mask. Except, of course, as a motivation for murder. Then, I'm your top excuse. You've made both of those exceedingly clear."

"Foggy! It's- I'm- I-"

"I just can't," Foggy whispered, before he rose to his feet and stumbled toward the door, the scent of distress pouring off of him so thickly it was almost a physical presence in the air.

"Foggy? Foggy! No, Foggy! Please, Fog-" Matt cried out, growing more desperate as the omega got closer and closer to the door, until the click of it being shut behind his mate echoed through the accompanying silence.

The too quiet apartment, and lingering reek of distressed omega, felt like failure.


	7. The Ex

_Marci, Marci, Marci_

Matt's phone woke him from his troubled sleep. (He had entertained the thought of going after Foggy, but he was too weak to get off of the couch, so he'd cried and despaired until he'd fallen into a fitful sleep).

Marci? Why was she calling? She and Matt weren’t friends. They never had been.

Once upon a time, they had been civil for Foggy's sake. While she and Foggy had dated, the alphas had made nice, but even then, all bets were off when the omega wasn't around.

Right, Foggy. Their connection had always been Foggy, so that’s probably why she was calling now. She and Foggy had stayed friends, so she’s probably calling because he’s over there now.

He used all of his strength to lever himself to feet, and walked the short distance to his phone.

"Marci?"

"Murdock," she started coldly. "Do you mind explaining to me why your omega suddenly showed up at my door in tears? Or better yet, why I had to hold him while he sobbed and shook like he was about to fall apart?"

"Foggy's there? Is he okay?"

"What do you think?! He could barely stand up when he got here! . . .and the way he smelled when I let him in! I'll have to air out my apartment for hours, maybe even days!

What did you do to him?!?"

"Marci! Don't play games with me! He's pregnant and . . . ."

"He's pregnant?! 

You really are a complete asshole, Murdock!

One, if Foggy chose not to tell me that he was pregnant, it wasn't your news to tell. Two, I have no idea what you did to him, but whatever you did, you broke his heart. Quite frankly, that's bad enough, but doing it all while he's pregnant? What's wrong with you?!?"

"Okay, I'm an asshole. Is there some other point to this conversation?!?"

Matt's patience was running thin, and he couldn’t stop the sharpness from coming through. He knew he made a mistake, but he didn’t need _Marci_ , of all people, to tell him how badly he had screwed up.

"The point is, what did you do to Foggy?!?

 _You're_ the one who hurt him. I'm sure of that much, even if he wouldn't say it, and I'm not going to let you anywhere near him until I know what's going on. He's not going to skip back into your potentially abusive arms.

So, out with it. What did you do to him?"

"Marci, I wouldn't-"

"Yeah, yeah, Murdock. I've heard it all before. You love him. You'd _never_ do anything to hurt him.

Yet I opened my door to an omega on the verge of a drop, and those don't just happen for no reason."

Matt's heart sped up.

"Marci, did he . . ."

"So if you want any additional information, you're going to tell me exactly what you did to him."

"Marci, you have to tell me if Foggy's okay!"

Silence.

"Marci? Marci!"

"You heard my terms."

"Okay, okay! I lied to him! I lied about something big. Not cheating, or anything like that, I wouldn't cheat . . . .but something I should have told him; something important . . . .and he felt like maybe he didn't matter to me if I could keep such a big secret from him."

"Well, that's not half vague."

"It's the best you're getting. Now stop stringing me along! **Is Foggy okay?** "

"He's asleep on my couch.

It was a very near thing, but he didn't go into a drop. . . "

Matt let out a shaky breath that he felt like he'd been holding since he answered the call. Finally, she told him what he wanted to know. The answer to the unspoken worry that had been niggling at the back of his mind since Foggy had stormed out of their apartment on shaky feet.

'Omega drops' were physical reactions to stress, specifically stress on the bond between an omega and their alpha. The severity of 'drops' varied greatly, and could range from a pseudo-flu, to fainting, to seizure, to stroke or death in the most extreme cases. Miscarriages weren't uncommon for omegas who went into drop while pregnant. . .and Foggy had seemed like he might be on the verge of one when he left, though Matt had certainly hoped he was wrong. Apparently he wasn't, but somehow Foggy had managed to avoid it . . .but how?

" . . .Apparently I made a good pheromone surrogate."

"You pulled him back from the edge of a drop? He scented you, and that worked?"

"You sound surprised. Why shouldn't we be compatible?

We're friends, Murdock. He and I used to date . . .and if it weren't for the fact that I don't want a mate, I think he probably would have been it for me. Well, that, and the fact that he was clearly carrying a torch for you, even while he was with me, though God only knows what he sees in you.

To be honest, I think he knew we'd be compatible, and that's why he came here. He knew he needed help, and he clearly couldn't get it from you.

Was I not supposed to help him?! Even when he looked two seconds away from collapsing?!"

"No, I'm glad you helped, Marci. The most important thing is that Foggy's okay. 

Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah. Don't get mushy on me, Murdock."

She ended the call, and Matt's worry abated enough for him to realize that he'd been pacing the entire time he was on the phone, and he'd managed to pull out several of his stitches in the process. 

His hand had moved to put pressure on the worst of the reopened cuts without him even thinking about, trying desperately to keep his blood inside his body.

He'd better call Claire.


	8. Pacing is not an approved activity

"How did you manage to tear your stitches?" Claire asked in exasperation.

"Apparently I pace when I'm nervous."

He winced slightly as a needle pierced his skin. Usually he wouldn't react, but he was too exhausted to mask his pain.

"Matt! You should be on bedrest. Pacing isn't on your list of approved activities. . . .which to be clear, means anything more strenuous is out of the question. 

I know how your mind works, and there will be absolutely no vigilante street-fighting for at least a week."

Matt stayed silent. He couldn’t promise that, so better not to say anything at all.

Claire seemed to pick up on the meaning of his silence, and sighed gustily as she finished redoing the last suture.

"So, what had you so nervous?" she tried, attempting to change the subject as she pulled off her gloves.

"You met Foggy, right?"

"Your mate? Yeah, meeting him is kinda hard to forget, given the circumstances.

It was pretty surprising too, considering you never mentioned you had a mate.

Imagine my shock when some tearful, panicked omega called me from your phone, and begged me to come help his alpha."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but if anyone knew the Devil of Hell's Kitchen had a mate . . . ."

"Your mate would be a target."

"Exactly. I need to keep him safe."

"By sending him to live somewhere else? 

Matt, you brought me to your apartment after the Russians took me, and he wasn't here. I'm guessing he hadn't been here in a while, because it looked like you lived alone."

"It's a long story . . ."

"I'll bet . . ."

Her tone is heavy with judgment, so Matt fell silent. 

He couldn’t do this now. He knew he probably deserved her judgment, but fighting with Foggy and his conversation with Marci had taken everything out of him. He just didn’t have anything else to give.

She must have noticed how defeated Matt was, because she sighed again, before continuing in a much gentler tone.

"I'm sorry, you were saying something about Foggy, and being nervous?"

It was an olive branch, but Matt's not sure he should take it. He wasn’t sure he could bear to talk about this with her, even though he had been planning to before. . . .then again, he might need to get this out, so he nodded and answered her.

"He was pretty upset after you left."

"Understandably, since he found you bleeding out, and spent a significant amount of time thinking you were going to die. 

He was pretty upset while I was here too. Crying, hovering, and worried sick; literally vomiting and shaking. I was worried he was going to go into a drop."

Matt flinched. In the back of his mind, he knew that Foggy had been more than just angry. He knew that he had been worried about him, but his anger and hurt had been so strong they seemed to eclipse his worry. 

Hearing from Claire just how upset and scared Foggy had been was a revelation, even if it really shouldn't be.

"Yeah, that's what had me worried too."

"With reason. Omegas have gone into drop over less. 

Did he keep vomiting, or have any other symptoms? Chills? Fever? Aches?"

"No. He must have been nauseated, because he drank almost two entire bottles of Pepto-bismal, but he didn't vomit, and he wasn't chilled or feverish.

He was just furious. He yelled, and cried, and then yelled some more. Then he stumbled out of the apartment to get away from me."

"Can you really blame him?"

"No, I really should have told him. It wasn't fair for him to find out like that."

"Should have told him . . .find out . . .wait, are you saying your mate didn't know you were a vigilante?!

Not telling me about him is one thing. It would have polite to tell me, since I was kinda into you, and I didn't know you were taken; but you barely knew me, so not telling me you had a mate, when you were trying to protect him by letting as few people as possible know about him, makes senses. . . But not telling him?! He's your mate! He deserved to know! 

Besides, doesn't not knowing put him in _more_ danger?"

"I know, but I didn't know how to tell him, and the timing was never right.

First, we were trying to start our new practice. Then we got our first client, and someone tried to kill her twice in as many days. Then Foggy got hurt in the bombing, and found out he was pregnant. . .There was just never a good time!"

"Wait . . . Your mate is pregnant?!?"

"Yeah."

"You're an idiot!

You realize that all of this is a lot to take in under normal circumstances, and his hormones are dialled up to eleven?!

Do you have _any idea_ how lucky you are that he didn't go into a drop?! Or lose the baby?!

Wait . . .you said he stormed out . . .you don't think . . .?"

Matt shook his head decisively, even as his stomach dropped at just the thought of what she was asking.

"No. Marci called and said he was okay.

She took her time telling me, hence the pacing, but she would have told me if something was wrong."

"Marci? Who's Marci?"

"She's a friend of Foggy's."

"'Friend?'

I don't think I've ever heard that word said with so much contempt before.

You sound like you want to strangle this 'friend'."

"She's one of Foggy's exes."

"Ah."

He heard Claire nod a few times as if she understood everything now. He wondered if she truly did.

"I've never liked her," Matt confided, though he wasn’t sure why. "And now he's seeking comfort in _her_ arms . . ."

"'Seeking comfort'? . . .did he?"

"No. He wouldn't. Not even with as upset as he was . . .okay, the thought might have occurred to me, but so did the idea that he might have gone to her for legal advice because he wanted to turn me in.

Neither of those things happened, and I really should have known that he wouldn't.

. . .but you said it yourself. He was skirting around the edge of a drop most of the time you were here, and that didn't really change after you left.

If anything, things got worse, and he was too mad at me for me to be any help. So he went to Marci, and she held him and let him scent her until he calmed down."

"That's still got to be difficult for you. Knowing they still have a strong enough bond between them for her to be a surrogate."

"It's not the greatest, but can I really complain when she maybe saved his life?"

"I guess not, but I mean, why did he go to her? Doesn't he have other alphas in his life? Family? You know, alphas he's never dated?"

"As much as I want to be mad, I think he probably picked her because she was the most likely to give him what he needed without asking questions.

His family would ask a million questions. Some of which he wouldn't be able to answer without giving away my secrets, or lying. 

It puts him in a bad spot, because I don't think he really wants to lie to his family, but I don't think he'd out me either. . .and I think his mom, who he probably would have gone to if he was going to go to family, might just try to kill me if she knew I was somehow responsible for how upset he was. She's insanely protective and you don't want to be on her bad side, so he was probably trying to protect me from that too."

Claire was quiet, but he could practically feel her stare as she studied him.

"You're actually afraid of his mother, aren't you?"

Matt felt his cheeks heat up, but he refused to answer her.

"You are! You've taken on armed, Russian mobsters, outnumbered five to one, but you're afraid of what I can only assume is a middle-aged woman, who's probably never armed with anything more menacing than a wooden spoon!"

"Foggy's her baby boy, she doesn't need to be armed; with a wooden spoon or anything else! She'd kill me with her bare hands for hurting him!

Mothers are way scarier than mobsters!"

Claire made a considering noise.

"You might be right," she chuckled, and then continued teasingly. "Can I quote you on that?"

"Okay, laugh all you want, but . . ."

Matt was cut off by a rapping knock on his apartment door.

"I bet that's the mama's boy now," she said as she stood up to get the door.

Matt was still too out of it to register who was on the other side of the door, their heartbeat was familiar but he didn’t know much beyond that. Well, other than whoever it was, it certainly wasn’t Foggy.

"Wait! Claire! Don't answer-"

"Oh!" echoed the surprised voice of Karen from the hallway. "I-is Foggy here?"

Her heart raced and she started to sweat. Add in the stutter, and it was pretty clear she thought she's caught Matt in a compromising position.

"No. I'm sorry. Can I pass along a message?"

"Um . . . I was just checking in, because he called in sick. Actually, he called both himself and Matt in sick. 

I just thought I'd come by and make sure they were okay. Especially since Foggy's pregnant and all . . .and I brought some soup . . . but I can see I came at a bad time . . . ."

Karen turned to scurry away, the soup sloshing violently in the styrofoam container as she beat her hasty retreat.

Meanwhile, Claire stood unmoving for a second as she seemed to realize what Karen was implying.

"Wait! It's not what-"

She cursed under her breath, realizing that Karen was too far out of range to hear her.

The door shut, and then Claire sat heavily across from Matt again.

"Who was that?"

"Karen. She's the secretary for our law firm; and a friend."

"She thinks we're sleeping together."

"Probably."

"How likely is she to tell your mate about this? And how bad is this going to be?"

"She'll almost definitely tell Foggy, and how bad it is will depend on whether or not he realizes that the omega she's talking about is you.

Foggy wasn't thrilled that you knew about the Devil of Hell's Kitchen before him, but he knew we weren't anything more than friends."

Claire sighed wearily.

"Well, you're no longer bleeding, and now someone thinks I'm the type of person who would sleep with a bonded alpha. Not just a bonded alpha; a bonded alpha with a pregnant mate. 

I think I'd better leave before any more rumors get started."

"Thank you for patching me up, Claire; I'm sorry you got swept up into the drama."

"I really only have myself to blame. It's not like I thought helping a stranger in a mask was going to be simple and drama-free. It kinda seems like a plot out of an adventure novel, or a comic book, and they're full of plenty of drama.

I might not have seen the whole mate and baby part coming, but I knew I was getting myself into something complicated, so I can't really complain too much.

I'll be around if you need patching up again, but Matt, do us both a favor and be careful. . .you have a family. I understand wanting to help, but don't forget to help them. They need you."

Matt nodded stiffly, ( _that’s assuming they ever forgive me,_ he thought), but he faked a smile as he said, "I'll keep that in mind."


	9. Truce

_Foggy, Foggy, Foggy_

Matt practically pounced on his phone in his eagerness to answer it.

"Foggy? I'm-"

"Why does Karen think you're having an affair?"

"Because Claire answered the door when she came by."

"That would do it . . .why was Claire there again? You didn't try to fight crime did you?! Because if you did, I swear to God I'll-"

"I didn't, Foggy. I know I'm not in any shape to do that.

I tore my stitches just walking around the apartment; that's why she was here. So believe me when I say I know I'm not ready for anything more strenuous yet."

"'Just walking around the apartment?'" Foggy questioned dubiously.

"Okay, it was pacing, but that's still essentially walking."

"Why were you pacing? I'm guessing you should be on complete bedrest the day after someone tried to shred you to ribbons."

"Maybe you should take that up with your ex."

Matt couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice, even though he realized, (too late), he’d probably only start a fight.

"What's that supposed to mean?!"

Foggy's voice had a dangerous edge to it, but Matt couldn’t stop.

"It means, when she toys with me like I'm a cornered mouse and she's a cat, I get worried and pace."

"How did Marci 'toy with you'?"

"She called earlier, and she knew damn well that I was worried about you, but she made sure to keep me in suspense as long as possible before telling me that you were okay."

Foggy sighed.

"I'm fine. Better than you, considering I didn't almost die yesterday, and I didn't reopen any injuries. . . I even managed to get a last minute appointment with my OB/GYN. 

The babies are fine. Everything's normal, well as normal as it can be considering apparently male omega aren't supposed to have triplets . . . which reminds me, they were a little surprised I already knew I was having triplets. They didn't have anything in their records about that. . . .they didn't run any additional tests that night did they, Matt? You could just hear their heartbeats, couldn't you?"

"No, they didn't," Matt admitted. "I just thought I might be able to hear our baby's heartbeat, so I tried, and I could hear it . . them; that there were three heartbeats."

"That might have been a good time to mention your senses."

"I didn't want to overwhelm you. You'd just been hurt and found out you were pregnant. It didn't seem like a good time to add 'oh, by the way, I could hear your heartbeat the second I got out of the cab in front of the hospital, and even though the technology they use in the hospital probably can't pick up the sound yet, I can hear our unborn children's heartbeats.'"

"You could hear my heartbeat from the street?! I was on the fourteenth floor! And there had to be close to two hundred people in the building! How did you know which one was mine?!"

"Because we've spent so much time together that your heartbeat is familiar to me. I'd know it anywhere. . . and it's important. It means you're still with me, so I listen for it almost all the time. I'm good at finding it, even in a crowd."

Foggy went silent on the other end of the line, and the silence stretched, making Matt uncomfortable.

"Look, I realize that probably sounds creepy, but . . ."

"No, Matt, it's actually pretty sweet.

I just don't know what to say.

I'm glad you care enough that you don't want me to die, but can you say the same about yourself? 

Do you care if you live or die, Matt? . . .because I do, and I don't think my heart can take it if you keep treating your life like it's worthless. I can't stay and watch that."

"I'm not suicidal, Foggy!"

"Just ambivalent about your continued existence, then."

"That's not true!"

"You take on people armed with guns and knives using only your fists! And you don't even wear armor! 

That shirt you wear is almost see-through! I can rip it with my bare hands, and I'm not that strong! How is that supposed to keep you safe?!"

"I-"

". . . remember that night Karen and I went to see Elena, and some thugs hassled us?

There were two of them, and two of us. Even odds, not five or ten to one. Karen had mace in her purse, and I had a baseball bat, so we were definitely better armed than you ever are, and we took them by surprise, stunned them, and then ran. . . .and you freaked out when you heard about it. You lectured us like we'd tried to take down a crime ring all on our own . . . Despite the fact that you've literally done that without so much as a baseball bat."

"That's different. I've been trained, you haven't; and you’re _pregnant_."

"You didn't know that! None of us did at the time, so that can't be why you freaked out!

You panicked at just the thought of little old me, sans buns in the oven, being in danger for a few minutes. 

You were even a little angry that I chose to get involved and whack the crap out of one of those idiots instead of running away and calling the police; even though the guy I hit was trying to choke the life out of Karen. Not some random person. Our friend and secretary, Karen. The woman you trusted enough to let me live with her. . . .why am I supposed to be okay with you purposefully putting yourself in danger on a nearly nightly basis for people we've never met?

You might've been trained how to fight, but your training doesn't make you bulletproof. It doesn't even protect you from knives, if the other day is anything to go by.

Danger found me, and you called me reckless. You go looking for danger, and that's perfectly fine? I'm not supposed to worry?"

"I'm not saying you can't worry, but it's different, Foggy. I have to do this. I can't hear all the suffering in this city every night and do nothing."

"So you've said, and I'm trying to understand . . .but is it really worth your life?"

"I'll be more careful . . . I'll get body armor.

The other night, I tried to use the blade they used on me against Fisk, but he had some sort of protective layer in his suit. Light and strong. 

That type of material could help protect me without weighing me down and making me too slow to fight effectively."

"Fisk has a lot of resources at his disposal, and we're broke lawyers. Do you really think we have the means for something like that?

. . .oh, and don't think I missed that you neatly avoided the word 'stab' a couple of times there."

"Can't hurt to look into it. Find out who makes it."

"I would feel better if there were _something_ more between you and danger than a hope and a prayer."

"Foggy, I-"

"Was trained as a baby ninja, or whatever. . . .but . . .

Bleeding to death on the floor, Matt! You were bleeding to death on our floor!"

"You can't keep using that . . ."

"I can! It hasn't even been forty-eight hours yet! Believe me, I can use that as my trump card for a lot longer than that!

I think you owe me that! You nearly scared me to death . . .while I'm carrying your babies!"

"Foggy-"

"No arguments! I get to use the 'pregnancy card' until I'm not pregnant anymore, and I get to use the 'you almost died card' until I'm not terrified whenever I even just _think_ about what happened!"

There was still an underlying tension to Foggy's words, but overall he'd switched to a more teasing tone, so Matt decided to test the waters.

"I wouldn't have it any other way.

You're growing three new lives inside of you. Feel free to use the 'pregnancy card' whenever you want."

"Sure, you'll happily make midnight trips to the bodega to buy pickles and ice cream, so long as you're not already out punching criminals in the face."

Based on the edge to Foggy's voice, the waters were still treacherous.

"Foggy . . ."

"I'm sorry, I'll work on it. I'm just still adjusting to our new reality . . .and I'm still a little mad."

"I guess that's fair . . .just, please, come home. We'll work this out. I know we will."

"Alright, Matt. I'm coming home."


	10. All I Ask

The next couple of weeks, every conversation and interaction that Matt had with Foggy felt like it was tenuously balanced on the edge of a screaming match. Maybe he was being paranoid. It probably wasn't nearly as likely as he thought that "Would you like Chinese or Thai for lunch?" would become "You lied to me! I can't believe you would do that! I'm leaving you!" That didn't mean the fear wasn't there. That didn't mean that Matt wasn't just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It didn't matter that Foggy kept his word, and came home within an hour of saying he would. It didn't help that they shared a bed each night, and Foggy even let Matt hold him. He received no comfort from the way he and Foggy fell back into their routine at work. It didn't calm his nerves that Foggy pushed to pursue Fisk legally, and even started making headway on the case with a little help from Marci in procuring some documents. (The last one for more obvious reasons, because even while Matt wanted to bring Fisk down, he didn't want their work to make Foggy a target; and why did he have to work with Marci?).

He was sure, despite all of that, that there was more to come. Foggy had been too angry for things to just blow over. The omega had even admitted that he was still angry on more than one occasion. No, there was more coming, and he was sure that when it came it would be awful.

"What's wrong, Matt?" asked Foggy, his voice gentle and quiet in the still air of their apartment at night.

"What do you mean?"

The alpha felt hesitant and confused. What was the reason behind the question. Had he done something wrong?

"I mean, you've seemed worried these last couple weeks. Sorta on edge . . ." he dropped his voice. ". . .is something happening with . . .you know . . .something bad?"

"Things generally have to be bad for 'you know' to get involved," Matt dismissed, (or maybe defended? He felt sort of defensive.)

"You know what I mean. Worse than usual. . . .concerning . . .or especially taxing . . . .I don't know, beyond your normal baddies; something that's weighing heavily on your mind."

"Why do you ask?"

Yep, defensive. He was definitely being defensive. But, why? Foggy hadn't said or done anything that seemed overly disapproving. If anything he sounded genuinely concerned, and actually interested in an honest answer. . . .wasn't this what Matt would have wanted if he had told Foggy about his nightlife on his own terms? Someone to help bear the burden of what he experienced in the mask?

. . .but that was the problem, wasn't it? Matt _didn't_ tell Foggy. Foggy _**found out**_ , and that was causing far more stress than the actual work he was doing in the mask at the moment. And given the circumstances, having the person who was behind his stress ask him what was wrong, it felt like a trap. Even if he was fairly sure it wasn't meant to be.

"Do you not want me to ask?" Foggy questioned cautiously.

A jerk. Yep, Matt felt like a jerk, because now his omega sounded hesitant and nervous. He was backpedalling because Matt was being cold and defensive when Foggy was probably just being kind and concerned.

"No . . . I . . . You can ask or say whatever you want. I just don't know what to say."

"Because nothing's wrong, or because you don't know how to talk about it?" Foggy pressed gently.

"Plenty of things are wrong," Matt stated bluntly. "A crime lord masquerading as a philanthropist is running drugs and engaging in human trafficking in the shadows, while the public applauds the so-called good deeds he does in the light that will make the neighborhood too expensive for so many of those who live here. Worse yet, he'll lie, steal, cheat, murder, stop at nothing to have his way. Worst of all, we've gotten tangled up in his web, and we've all become targets.

But despite all that, which is a whole lot of wrong, what has me so preoccupied is us . . . .I mean, are you ever going to forgive me? 

Because I understand that I should have told you, and if I could go back in time and do it again, I would, but I can't. I can't change what happened, and you're still angry. You're trying to act normal, but you're still angry, and I need to know if there will ever be a time that you're not angry again, because right now I feel like I'm always waiting for you to get fed up and lash out at me . . .and it's exhausting."

Foggy made a considering noise and went quiet, but Matt didn't dare say anything. He knew this silence. It meant Foggy was thinking, and he knew better than to interrupt.

"You turned my world sideways, Matt," he started slowly; almost gently. "I thought our life was one thing, and then suddenly it had all of these pieces I never knew it had . . .and worst of all I was afraid that our life together was going to come to an abrupt end just as I made that discovery. One I never even knew was possible, or thought to expect.

I thought you were going to die, Matt. I thought you were going to bleed out, on our floor, while I stood helplessly and watched."

The omega sounded sincere and slightly upset, but still not angry. Hurt, maybe; perhaps even on the verge of tears. 

Matt wondered if he should say something, but instead he gaped like a fish, and said nothing. Probably for the best, since it seemed that Foggy wasn't done yet.

"You said I was angry, and you're not wrong. I was angry. I'm still angry . . .but my anger isn't all directed at you. 

Some of it is, you did lie to me, but even though that hurt, I'm already working on forgiving you . . . . .but even more of my anger is directed at Fisk for all the horrible things he's doing, and all the other criminals in this city for creating a need for you to do this. I'm angry at all of the people who hurt you, or try to hurt you while you're in the mask. I'm mad at the people who encourage you to keep up the fight, but somehow also make you feel like you're not doing enough . . .but more than anything, more than all the anger, I'm scared, and I'm worried.

I love you, and I want you to be safe, and happy, and healthy. I don't want you putting yourself at risk . . .but I'm starting to understand that hearing what you hear every night, and doing nothing, isn't a viable option for you. It would mean putting aside who you are, and what you believe in. It'd hurt you deep in your heart and soul, because like I said the first day I met you, you're a hero. You always have been. You put others first, and charge into danger to help when so many people would ignore what's happening or run away. . . . I may not like the way that endangers you, but I don't think I can deny you that either . . .so I'm adjusting. I'm trying to be understanding . . . But I need something from you too. 

I need you to talk to me. I need to be kept in the loop.

This may be something you need to do, but if you try to do it alone, it'll break you. You're taking on the worst and the ugliest pieces of our city nearly every night. Witnessing the worst in humanity. It's too much for one person to carry . . .so promise me, promise me that when the burden of what you've experienced gets too heavy, you'll talk to me. Let me share your burden. Let me help."

Matt's immediate instinct was to say 'no.' 

He wanted to downplay the stress of what he did, and claim he didn't need any support. He wanted to keep Foggy far away from anything that had to do with his nightlife, and keep him from having to hear about how terrible people and life could be. The omega was so positive and sunshiny, what if hearing about the darkness changed that? . . .but, Foggy was pleading, and he seemed so earnest. Maybe he was right. Maybe it would be good for both of them. ( _Besides,_ argued a more rational part of his mind. _Foggy isn't naive. He knows that the darkness exists._ )

"I'll try."

Better not to make any promises he couldn’t keep. He couldn’t be sure he'd always feel like he could or should tell Foggy everything. His instinct was still to go it alone, but he could try to change. He could make an effort.

"That's all I ask."


	11. Late Night Feast

Matt came home to dozens of fresh food smells. Breads, muffins, cake, chili, casserole and eggs among them. It seemed that Foggy had been busy while he was out.

Their bed was also notably empty, not surprisingly. It should have been obvious to Matt that the omega was still in the kitchen, even from a few blocks out.

"Foggy?" he called quietly as he made his way into the living room.

"Hi, Matty," his mate replied cheerfully as he continued to bustle around the kitchen. "Are you hungry? There's banana bread, and chili, and some of my mom's cheesy, chicken casserole; well, I made it, but it's her recipe. 

There are blueberry muffins too, but they're still cooling."

"Why is there so much food?"

Even across the room, Matt noticed the heat increase in Foggy's cheeks.

"Umm . . .well, at work today, I kept thinking about chocolate zucchini bread; really craving it. So, when I finished up with work, I decided to stop and buy the ingredients on the way home. Only, once I got into the store, I ended up buying what I needed to make half a dozen other things too.

You know how they say you shouldn't go grocery shopping when you're hungry? Because you'll end up buying a bunch of things you don't need because they seem appealing at the time? Apparently, shopping when you're hungry and have pregnancy cravings is ten or twenty times worse than that."

Matt chuckled softly.

"And you decided to make everything all in one evening?"

Foggy sighed.

"That wasn't the plan. I was just going to make the chocolate zucchini bread and some chili, because at some point while I was shopping I started fixating on chili.

So I made the bread, and I put it in the oven, but then I realized that we have bananas that are going to go bad soon, and you like banana bread better anyway, so I made some banana bread too.

Then I started the chili, planning to eat it for dinner, but partway through making it, I realized that eating chili was probably a really bad idea. I've been having horrible heartburn lately, and eating something spicy as my last meal before bed, seemed like asking for trouble. . .but, I'd already started it, so I might as well finish it, so we had it for leftovers.

While I finished making the chili, I decided that making my mom's cheesy, chicken casserole might be a better dinner plan, so I started making that. It's a bit of a time-consuming recipe, so by the time I finished it, I'd already had two slices of chocolate zucchini bread, and it was after nine, but what did I expect after making an entire dinner before actually making what I planned to eat, so I sat down to eat. . . .only, I took two bites, and then I started to feel nauseated. The casserole was too rich. . . .so I left it to cool for leftovers and I tried to think about what I _could_ eat without getting sick, and, well all I could think of was eggs. There's a reason eggs are a hangover food. They usually sit pretty well, even when someone's stomach is upset.

So, I made eggs and toast, and I _finally_ ate dinner . . .and maybe another piece of chocolate zucchini bread . . .but eating eggs had me thinking about breakfast, and breakfast made me think about muffins, and before I knew it, I was baking blueberry muffins. Which made me think about cake, and how Karen loves my devil's food chocolate cake. I made it for her a few times while I was staying with her. . . .so I decided to make a cake to bring to the office, and well, I had just put it in the oven a few minutes before you came in the window . . .and that's pretty much what happened.

So, are you hungry? Like I said, there are plenty of options, and I'm guessing fighting crime works up an appetite."

Matt shook his head and laughed, before answering the question, "I'll have some of the chili. Thanks."

Foggy rushed around to re-heat some chili, banging around what sounded like a mountain of dishes as he worked.

"You could go to bed, Fog. I can re-heat the food myself," he offered.

There was a disturbance in the air as Foggy waved him off.

"Nah, I'm up, I can do it. Besides, I still have to take the cake out of the oven, and, um, do all the of the dishes I created . . ."

"At least let me help with that. You made the food, I can wash the dishes."

Matt made his way over to the sink, and started washing the admittedly ridiculous number of dishes. Honestly, he was a little surprised that Foggy found another clean pan to heat the chili in.

"Thanks, I know I went overboard . . ."

"It's alright, Fog. We'll eat the leftovers."

"And, hey, I may even get to share a few dinners with you when you get home, if I get up to re-heat them for you."

The comment wasn't pointed. It was just made in passing as Foggy dished up the chili into a bowl for Matt and carried it to the table, but Matt felt it hit home anyway.

He had been preoccupied lately. He'd been working so obsessively on bringing down Fisk, that most days he worked until it got dark, and then he went out in the suit. He and Foggy hadn't walked home together, or shared dinner, in nearly a week. In fact, if Matt were honest, he'd only shared a meal with his mate a few times since Foggy had come back. Was it any wonder that the omega's comment seemed longing?

"Or I could come home and eat with you, before I go out for the night," he countered as he sat to eat.

"Matt-"

A timer rang, and Foggy scurried over to remove the cake from the oven, and put it out on a cooling rack. Then he made his way back to the table, and sat silently, as if he hadn't been planning to speak before.

Matt ate quietly for a few spoonfuls, hoping that Foggy would continue with whatever it was that he had been planning to say, but no such luck. When he could finally take the quiet no more, he spoke up.

"This is really good chili, Fog."

"Thanks."

"Before the timer rang, you were going to say something. What was it?"

"I don't know," the omega lied, his heart tripping over the falsehood.

"Foggy," the alpha warned.

"Okay, okay. I was going to say that that would be nice, because I've missed you . . .but then I decided that that sounded pathetic, so I wasn't going to say it."

"That doesn't sound pathetic."

"It kinda does. I spend my whole day with you at the office, and you come home to our bed every night . . .that should be enough. I get to work beside you, I get to be held by you, but sometimes I feel like all our time together is either spent on work-related topics or unconscious. 

I'm probably just being too sensitive and whining here, but I miss having time with you where we don't have to be 'Nelson & Murdock: attorneys at law,' and we can just be Matt and Foggy, alpha and omega, sharing our lives together while not sleeping."

Matt left his food and crossed to the other side of the table to hug Foggy.

"That's fair. You should be able to have that," he soothed.

"We're lawyers. Lawyers work long hours. We're busy, and we're trying to take down a crime lord. Things need to be sacrificed," Foggy countered.

"We can fight the good fight, without sacrificing us. I'm serious, Fog, I think we should come home together and share dinner every night. We should make it a priority."

"Okay. I'd like that."


	12. Can't Take One More Step

"Foggy asked me to bring these to you, Mr. Murdock," Karen said icily as she handed him some paperwork. 

Her voice dripped with disdain as she almost hissed his name, and he could feel her glaring at him.

Unfortunately, this had become the new normal when the two of them were alone in a room together. If Foggy was there as well, Karen was all smiles and polite conversation. They were on a first name basis, and everything was light and casual. She behaved as if nothing were different. When Foggy left though, the pleasantries ended. The secretary shifted to a more formal address with Matt, and her tone became clipped and cold.

He knew that was because Karen still thought he was cheating on Foggy, just as surely as he knew that Foggy had assured her otherwise, (which was why she went to such lengths to make things seem normal when the other omega was around). He didn't like the assumption, but he had mostly made his peace with it, knowing that there was little he could do to change her mind.

Today, however, the implied accusation was especially vexing. Everything felt like it was falling apart around him, and her judgmental attitude was the last thing he needed.

"If you have something you'd like to say to me, Ms. Page, just say it. No need to hide behind stilted formality," he challenged.

She paused and seemed to consider whether or not she should say something.

"No, that's all, Mr Murdock."

Her heels clicked back out of the room, and Matt let out a sigh. He wasn't sure if he was grateful she had backed down, because it prevented him from saying things he might regret later, or disappointed, because he was spoiling for a fight and she had taken away his excuse. Either way, he figured he better try to do some work.

Getting to work wasn't easy. Matt's mind kept getting pulled away from the documents in front of him by his worry, and he could hear that Foggy was getting restless in his office. The omega had thrown down the papers he was looking through twenty minutes ago, and started pacing. Now, he was digging through one of the cabinets in the kitchenette.

"Matt, did you move my tools?" he called.

"They're in the cupboard to the right of the one under the sink. The sink started leaking yesterday, and I didn't want them to get wet and rust."

"Thanks!"

The exclamation of gratitude was followed by the metal on metal sounds of Foggy taking on the leaky pipe with an intensity that echoed through their small office. A sound that was both comforting and disquieting.

Matt had always loved the sound of Foggy fixing things, (okay, Matt pretty much loved any sounds that Foggy made), because he loved how resourceful his omega was. Foggy's handyman skills made Matt proud, and when Foggy used them to help Matt, the alpha felt loved and cared for. However, when Foggy really attacked a job, it meant he was feeling helpless and needed to do something with his hands to feel like he had some semblance of control. The hurried sounds Matt was hearing could mean nothing else, and he hated it when his mate felt powerless. It often made him feel just as helpless, because he felt like he should be able to comfort Foggy, and prevent him from feeling so desperate.

His attention shifted from the grate of metal on metal to the frantic pounding of the omega's heart, which was clearly caused more by emotion than exertion. Matt knew Foggy had ample reasons for his distress, but each rushed beat still felt a bit like an accusation; a reproach for not being able to calm his mate's fears and frustrations. He also knew that as much as he hated keeping to his own space and listening to Foggy struggle, that Foggy's solution was far more likely to steady him than anything Matt could do.

The clacking of Karen's heels interrupted his thoughts as she wheeled into his office.

"He's under the sink, in some awkward position, cranking on the pipes with a wrench. I think he's straining himself. Shouldn't you be stopping him? That can't be good for him, especially right now."

Matt listened back in, and while Foggy seemed to be exerting himself slightly, (likely because of the intensity with which he was attacking the task), he didn't seem to be overexerting himself.

"He's allowed to continue normal activity as long as he doesn't feel weak or tired. He fixes things all the time, and I trust him to know his limits."

"You just don't care about him at all, do you?!" Karen snapped.

"What?!" Matt returned, feeling baffled, and a little like she had slapped him across the face.

"It's bad enough that you're willing to cheat on him, but now you don't even seem to care if he hurts himself! 

He's your mate! He adores you! 

In the short time I've known the two of you, I've watched you repeatedly not be there for him, but he still looks at you like you hung the moon and the stars! AND if that's not enough, he's pregnant with your children! Doesn't any of that mean anything to you?!” 

“Of course it does! I—“ 

“Really?! So sitting here on your ass, doing nothing, is what it looks like when you care?! 

I mean, I guess it’s a big step up from kicking him out of his own home, and letting him cry himself to sleep in my apartment while you fuck some side chick, but that’s not saying much. Especially since no matter what he thinks, I know you haven’t stopped. You’re not staying behind in the office to get work done, and you and I both know that, even if he wants to see the best in you and deny what’s in front of him.” 

“I—“ 

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve started going home with him after work. Probably to throw him off of your scent, because you know even someone as good-hearted and trusting as Foggy can’t be fooled forever.” 

“Or maybe I just want to spend time with him! Have you ever considered that?” 

“Why start now? 

Did your little fling grow a conscious about cheating with an alpha whose mate is pregnant? Or is this a manifestation of the famous Catholic guilt Foggy talks about? 

What, you feel too guilty to completely ignore your pregnant mate, even if your guilt wasn’t strong enough to prevent you from committing adultery in the first place? And it certainly isn’t strong enough for you to protect him. You’d rather leave him to strain until he ruptures something . . . .oh!” 

“What?!” Matt questioned, his voice dropping and becoming edged with something dangerous. 

Karen didn’t seem to notice, or at least didn’t seem to care about the threat implied by his tone. She continued with the same doggedness as before. 

“You _**want**_ him to rupture something, don’t you?” she accused. “You can’t leave your pregnant mate, but if something were to happen to him . . . .you’d be free. ‘Until death do you part.’ You could guiltlessly move on to what’s-her-face, because he’d be out of the way.” 

Matt jumped to his feet, and grabbed his desk hard enough he thought he might break it, to stop himself from lunging at Karen. 

“How dare you! . . .” 

“Oh please. You’ve been treating Foggy like he’s nothing almost since I met you guys. Sending him away. Avoiding him. Basically treating him like he’s expendable. 

‘How dare I’ nothing, your own actions condemn you! It’s not like you’ve acted like you care if he lives or dies!”

 _Expendable._ _Don’t care if he lives or dies._ Matt's already frayed temper snapped when he heard the words, his rage boiling over.

"If I _ever_ hear you mention my mate and the word 'expendable' in the same sentence again, you'll regret it. Foggy is **not** expendable. He's essential to me in a way you'll never understand. I couldn’t breath without him! 

How dare you have the nerve to say I don’t care if he lives or dies!"

Despite the fact Matt had roared his words out in rage, the secretary interrupted his furious tirade with several sarcastic titters, sighs, and scoffs. He was nearly certain she was rolling her eyes, and that just made him grip the desk even more tightly. He heard it creak as wood fibers started to snap, and wondered how much more he could take before he moved his fingers from his desk to Karen’s throat.

"Drop the dramatics!

( _Probably not a lot,_ he reflected as his fingers twitched.)

You think threatening me proves anything?! All it means is you don’t like being caught out!

You can play the wounded, protective mate all you want, but if you actually cared, you'd have picked up your phone and _been there_ for him when he was in the hospital. 

If you ‘can’t breath without him,’ you never would have sent him away, and you certainly never would have strayed!

So spare me your lies! All I have to do is look at your actions to know that you don’t really care about Foggy."

Matt's heart pounded with fury, and he clenched his hands into fists under the desk, restraining himself from the instinct to fight, or strangle his employee. 

Something in him must have shifted, because this time when he spoke, Karen didn’t even try to interrupt him.

"I love Foggy! I hate that I couldn't get to my phone the night of the bombing. I hate that he got hurt, and I wasn’t there! 

I got to him as quickly as I could, and I know it wasn't fast enough, but don't you dare try to tell me it's because I don't care about Foggy! I'd give up my life for his in a heartbeat. I'd take on anyone who'd dare to try to hurt him. I'd do anything I could to keep him safe and happy. I've never cared about anyone more! 

No one else could compare! That’s why I’d never even consider cheating on him! 

. . .and if anything ever happened to him, if I lost him, I think it would kill me.”

"And the Oscar goes to . . ." she drawled, her tone distinctly unimpressed.

"How about you get the hell out of my office, before I decide your job is 'expendable’?” he growled.

For a moment he felt Karen stare at him, with what he was sure was a defiant glare, but then her shoulders sagged and she retreated from his office.

Matt let out a harsh exhalation, and dropped heavily back into his chair, his mind still slightly buzzing with rage.

"Are you okay, Matt?" Foggy whispered uncertainly from the door to the alpha's office.

"Foggy," he stated numbly, surprised that he was only just realizing that the omega was there.

Foggy stepped into the office, and shut the door behind him.

"Sounds like you had a bit of a disagreement with Karen. I didn't hear everything, but do you really think we should be threatening to fire our only employee when she works for so little she's practically free?"

The omega's voice was gentle, even tentatively playful at the end, but it didn't make the situation any better.

"If she's going to go around calling you ‘expendable,’ or implying I want you dead, then I don't care if she _does_ work for free, she's not welcome here."

"I missed something."

"Karen still thinks I'm cheating on you—“

"I told her you weren't!"

"I know, but she doesn't believe you. She thinks you're too in love with me to admit it.

She also accused me of not caring about you, thinking you're expendable, and apparently wanting you to die so I can run off with my lover without the guilt of leaving a pregnant omega.” 

“That’s ridiculous! How did she come to that conclusion?!” 

“She said that if I really cared, I'd have been there after the bombing, and when you were crying in her apartment . . .and apparently, if I cared if you lived or died, I wouldn’t let you fix the sink.” 

“What?!” 

“Look, Foggy, I know I wasn't there for you like I should have been. I did send you away, and I retreated from you, and you told me how much I hurt you when I did that. 

I understand that, and I'm more sorry than you know, Fog . . .I'd never want to hurt you . . .but that she could think that I'd do that to you purposefully, or that I don't care about you . . .that it doesn’t matter to me if you live or die—or worse, that I would want you to die. . . I can't. . . ."

Foggy crossed the room to hug him, and whispered, "It's okay. I know you didn't mean to hurt me. I know you love me, and you’d never want anything to happen to me. 

I’ll talk to Karen. It sounds like she was way out of line.”

"I shouldn't have yelled the way I did, but I just couldn't take it on top of everything else . . . I feel like the world is collapsing in on us. I'm not sure I can take another step . . .but I need to. I need to, for you and the babies. I don't get to break down. I have to be strong."

"Bullshit. If you need to talk about it, which I think you should, Matty. . . .Remember you promised me you would? . . .If you need to talk about it, and break down for a little while, that's okay. It's better than you letting all the burdens you're carrying overwhelm you. I can help lessen your load; I'm here to help. Please let me."

"But you're . . . ."

". . . Not helpless, and stronger than you think. I'm not going to break."

"But the doctor said . . . "

"That I'm healthy, and the babies are healthy . . . "

"-for now. But it's still a high-risk pregnancy. That's why . . . ."

Foggy cut him off with what must have been a very vigorous head shake, based on the swish of his hair through the air.

"No, Matt. Just no. Besides, with as Catholic as you are, you can't honestly be considering it."

"Sixty-five percent, Foggy. She said you had a sixty-five percent chance of developing complications as your pregnancy progresses; maybe even higher because you already almost went into a drop a few weeks ago."

"That means there's a thirty-five percent chance everything will be fine. . ."

"Foggy, I'm not saying we should reduce your pregnancy, but we have to seriously consider what the doctor said."

"'The bodies of male omegas weren't designed to carry more than one child at a time. Twins can be managed, but anything more than that is incredibly risky.'

I heard her, Matt. I was there . . .but, I know in my heart that we're meant to have these children. All of them. Think about it, the fact that I conceived at all is amazing. You used a condom every time during my last heat, and I was on birth control. If I can get pregnant under those circumstances, then my body can handle three babies. I just know it."

Matt paused, head still resting on Foggy's shoulder, body still held gently in the omega's embrace. He wanted to believe his mate. He wished he had his conviction that everything would turn out well . . .but Matt Murdock would never be an optimist. He had been let down too many times to believe the best in anything.

"I'm scared," he admitted quietly; his words half-muffled in Foggy's neck. "I can't lose you, Fogs. No matter what Karen says, if something happened to you . . ."

"I know, I know,” Foggy soothed, “but nothing’s going to happen. You won't lose me."

He pulled back from their embrace.

"You can't know that. You can't."

"Matt-"

"You're in the middle of a high-risk pregnancy, and we've stalled on the Fisk case, so there's a dangerous crime lord out there that’s destroying Hell’s Kitchen and killing good people, but we can't seem to put away. He killed Elena, and now he's killed Ben. It seems like everyone who gets involved with us takes their life into their hands. Then there's the fact he could come after us, after _you_ , if he ever pieces together what we're doing . . . . and . . . And one of his associates is blinding people and forcing them to work for her in the drug trade. Everything feels like it's falling apart, and I can't seem to hold anything together, or do any lasting good. I don't even know if I can take one more step. 

Some alpha I am, huh? I can't protect you or the babies. I can't even take care of myself."

"You're a great alpha. The only one I ever want."

"Foggy-"

"No, listen, Matt. I'm so glad you shared all of that with me, because that's a lot to carry alone, and you shouldn't have to keep it to yourself."

"Sure, I can burden my pregnant mate. Add to his risk factors."

"You're not burdening me.

If anything, you're easing my burden, because I know what's going on with you. I'm not left guessing."

"No, you know just how pathetic I am now."

"You're not pathetic, you're human; and that's okay.

It's okay to be scared about my pregnancy, or about Fisk. I am too. It's completely normal.

It's also normal be frustrated when you can't find what you need for a case. There's nothing wrong with you for feeling that way.

And the thing about Fisk's associate . . ."

"Being in that warehouse . . .it felt like I should have been furious; completely filled with rage . . And I was a little angry . . .but more than anything, I felt numb. I couldn't believe that anyone would do that. Why would anyone do that?

I was so in shock, that when I confronted her, all I could do was point out the obvious fact that she had blinded those people. Then I just stood there uselessly as she escaped, after she told me that they 'chose' to lose their sight. 'Chose' to be blinded and exploited?! 'Chose' to never see the sky or the light of day ever again?!"

Foggy wrapped him back up in his arms, moving one hand to stroke through Matt's hair and making soft, soothing sounds.

"We'll stop Fisk. We'll stop all of this. I'm not sure how, but we will."

Part of Matt wanted to argue. There was no possible way that Foggy could know that with such certainty, especially when the odds were currently stacked against them. But Foggy's heart was steady. It didn't waver once as he declared that they would stop this, so the omega believed what he said completely, and well, who was he to deny him hope? Especially in the current circumstances. So he kept his mouth shut, and prayed that Foggy had some sort of insight that he didn't.


	13. Can't Keep My Hands to Myself

As it turned out, Foggy was right. They did stop Fisk, and most of his associates. Not without hardship, or an appearance by the newly dubbed "Daredevil," (in an armored suit that Foggy didn't approve of exactly, but found far more reassuring that the black pajamas Matt used to wear, even if he did relentlessly tease him about the horns), but Hell's Kitchen cleaned house, and Matt couldn't help but think that the city was better for it.

Foggy also forced Karen and Matt to talk, claiming he couldn't continue working with them if they continued their cold war. They cleared the air between them, and the office was better for it. Which was good, because they suddenly found themselves very busy.

Their practice took a major boost from their involvement in the Fisk case. A few short days after the news of Fisk's takedown hit the news, they found their small office flooded with potential clients. Tenement cases. Wrongful arrests. Worker's rights. There was an endless parade of downtrodden people coming through their door, hoping they'd found a champion in Nelson & Murdock.

They fought hard, won cases, and their reputation as defenders of the underdog and the disenfranchised grew. The only thing that didn't really grow, was their bank account. Most of their clients paid them in goods like fruit, pastries and crocheted blankets, not actual money, but they had enough paying clients to get by.

Along with their practice, and their reputation, Foggy was growing too. He was a little over three months along, finally past his first trimester, and while no one seemed sure enough to say anything based on the way the omega looked, Matt could feel a distinct swell in Foggy's abdomen. In fact, he'd been having a bit of a hard time keeping his hands off it.

"Matt, you can't keep running your hands over my stomach every time you touch me. People are going to notice, and think it's weird," Foggy scolded one day, as the alpha's hands moved from the omega's back to caress the growing roundness of his front, during what had started as a quick hug.

"Don't care. Love you. Love our babies. They can think it's weird all they want."

"Okay, but aren't you worried they'll put the pieces together and figure out I'm pregnant?"

"It's not like you'll be able to hide that fact much longer, Foggy."

"You're right, but don't you think we should tell people, before they start hearing rumors about your creepy inability to keep your hands to yourself?"

Matt frowned, and reluctantly dropped his hands.

"Who would we tell? For better or worse, we don't really have a lot of friends."

Karen had known before Matt, and Claire and Marci had heard the news about a week afterward. Who else was there to tell?

"I don't know, my family? Bess? 

Although, I guess she kinda falls under family. I did call her my aunt when I was growing up."

"You haven't told your family yet?"

"The doctor said to wait until I was past my first trimester to tell people, just in case . . . .well, you know."

Just in case he lost the babies. A shadow of threat that always lingered at the edge of Matt's mind. Foggy could lose the babies. He could lose Foggy. No matter how much he loved to run his hands over Foggy's growing baby bump and listen to their babies' heartbeats, (which he could hear now without putting his ear to Foggy's belly, if he concentrated), or how hard he tried to focus on their success and the things that were going well, those worries were always there.

"I know, but I didn't think that included your parents. I could understand waiting to tell your extended family, but I was sure you'd told your mom and dad as soon as you knew."

" _I_ didn't tell anyone about my pregnancy," Foggy countered.

Matt flinched, and Foggy sighed.

"I'm not mad at you for telling Marci and Claire. I understand how it came up, but the only person I would have told in those first three months, is you."

"I'm sorry, Foggy . . . So, are you going to call your parents and tell them the good news?"

"Call them? Oh no, Murdock. Nelsons do not merely give this type of news over the phone. My parents are going to become grandparents, and that's the type of thing you tell someone in person.

So we're going to my parent's house for dinner tomorrow night, and we're going to tell them then."

"We?"

"Yes, we. You provided half the genetic material, so you're a pretty important part of telling them about the babies."

Suddenly, Matt felt like a teenager who had gotten caught making out with his boyfriend by their parents, which was, quite frankly, ridiculous. He and Foggy were adults. They were bonded, and had been for the past two years. Foggy's parents threw them a party after they bonded. They were incredibly supportive of their relationship. Matt knew their news was probably going to be received with rejoicing and tears of joy, but he still couldn't help but feel nervous.

"Don't look so worried, Matt. My parents are going to be thrilled. They've been bugging me about when they could start expecting grandchildren from pretty much the moment that we bonded."

"I'm not worried."

"Uh-huh."

"I'm not."

"Okay. Just make sure you're ready to leave tomorrow at five o'clock sharp."


	14. Alpha-to-alpha

"Frankie! Matt! So good to see you boys!" Anna Nelson cried as they made their way into the Nelsons' apartment.

She hugged them each in turn.

"Good to see you too, Mom," Foggy returned fondly.

Matt just nodded his agreement.

Anna tutted, and made her way back toward the kitchen with the two of them in tow.

In the kitchen, Foggy's father looked up from the stove and silently waved at Foggy before calling a soft 'hi, Matt.'

"It's been too long. I know you're busy getting your law firm off the ground and all, but are you really too busy for family?" Foggy's mother complained as she turned her focus to chopping.

"Anna-"

"We're sorry, Mom."

"I swear, I've heard more about you from the news, and Bess Mahoney, then I have from your own mouths."

Foggy winced next to Matt, and it quickly became clear that whatever she had said was a veiled reference to some ongoing argument between them.

"I told you, Ma, I was going to call the next morning, if you hadn't called me first. It's not like I was in any condition to call you when they admitted me. They stitched up my side and then shot me full of drugs. What was I supposed to do about the fact that Elena told Bess, who told you, before I was even conscious again?!?"

"He has a point," Foggy's father, Edward, broke in.

"Okay, so let's say you get a pass on that. 

What's your excuse, Matthew? Why didn't _you_ call me when my son was drugged up in the hospital?"

"I- I- " Matt spluttered as he felt his cheeks burn.

What could he say? 'I didn't know. I wasn't there because I was holed up with a Russian mobster?'

If Anna seemed to be implying he was a bad alpha for not calling her when Foggy was hurt, what would she think if she knew that he wasn't there for Foggy at all . . .much less _why_ he wasn't there.

Foggy reached for his hand and squeezed it before he swept in to save him.

"Leave Matt alone, Ma. He was trapped in some building because of all the chaos caused by the bombs, and he was without cell service for hours, so _he_ didn't even know something had happened until well after midnight."

"Okay, okay. I'm just saying that I worry.

I'm proud of you two for standing up for what's right, and taking on the Fisk case; but taking on powerful people and cases involving corruption seems dangerous. Between that, and the Incident, and the bombings, I just wouldn't mind hearing from you more often to know that you're okay."

"Okay," Foggy placated, catching his mother in a side hug and planting a brief kiss on her cheek. "We'll make an effort to call and come by more often."

"That's all I ask."

"Dinner's ready," Foggy's father called. "Let's move this guilt trip to the dining room table."

"Ed!"

"Oh, come on, Annie, you've spent almost every moment since they came through the door scolding them about something or another.

They're adults. They can take care of themselves . . .and they're finally here. Let's enjoy our time together."

Oddly, it was that statement that made Matt feel worse than any of Foggy's mom's reproaches. His father's 'take what you can get' attitude made Matt want to drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. He had no doubt that his secrets had created a distance between Foggy and his parents, since his mate would never tell his parents about Matt's nighttime activities, nor would he want to lie to them. In all likelihood, he had been avoiding them, so that nothing would come up that he needed to lie about. A situation that was entirely Matt's fault.

Conversation flowed throughout dinner, cheerful and lively as it always was with the Nelsons. Matt, however, found that he only half-participated, as his mind kept wandering back to whether or not he was responsible for the occasional bout of stilted awkwardness. Had his secrets put Foggy in a position where he felt uncomfortable around his parent? Had he limited his mate's access to one of his most reliable support systems? It certainly seemed like Foggy had been avoiding them, when once he had called them at least once a week, and had dinner with them at least once a month. What else could have caused Foggy's sudden retreat?

Matt only realized that the meal had ended, when Foggy sunk back into the seat next to him, and rested his hand gently on Matt's shoulder to get his attention.

"Mom, Dad, we have something we need to tell you," Foggy started.

"What's that, Frankie?" Anna asked, her posture taut and nervous, though her voice only betrayed the slightest hint of worry.

"I'm pregnant," Foggy said, voice just a little too high and fast to be neutral.

"Pregnant?" Ed repeated, voicing giving the same slightly excited tell as Foggy's.

Matt heard the rustle of Foggy's long hair on his collar as he nodded.

"That's wonderful!" his parents cried in unison, as they rushed them to give them hugs.

"Oh, baby, you must be so excited!" Anna cooed, clearly ready to move into full-on fussing. "How have you been feeling? Has the morning sickness been bad?"

"I've been feeling fine, Mom. The morning sickness was a little bit bad at first, but I'm pretty much past it now."

"And you've been taking your vitamins, and doing whatever else they're asking you to do?"

"Yes, Ma."

"And Matt's been taking care of you?"

"Yes. Matt's been great."

Matt felt himself flush and squirm at Foggy's praise. While he'd certainly been trying to do what he could, he knew that between the whole Karen misunderstanding and the dramatic Daredevil reveal he'd been far from 'great.'

"Congratulations to both of you!" Ed cheered, hugging them both again. "I have to say, I've been looking forward to my first grandchild."

"First three," Foggy said quietly; almost nervously.

"Frankie?" his mother questioned.

"I'm having triplets."

There was silence where Matt was sure Ed and Anna were exchanging a meaningful look, then Matt and Foggy were swamped in another round of hugs.

"Well, you know who you can always ask for free baby-sitting," Ed commented jovially.

"You might not want to say that, Dad. With three babies, Matt and I are going to take anything 'free' we can. You might get sick of us pawning our kids off on you."

"Get sick of our grandbabies?! Never!"

"Speaking of 'free' things for the babies, Ed, why don't you take Frankie down to the storage unit and see if you can find that box of baby clothes that we kept.

I gave most of Frankie and Candy's baby clothes to the neighbor when she got pregnant, but I kept a couple dozen outfits because I was going to try to make a quilt out of them, but I never found the time. I'd be happy to let you two have them."

"Will do."

Matt heard Foggy get towed out of the apartment by his father, followed by the soft slam of the door. Then he and Anna sat in awkward silence for a few moments before the elder alpha spoke.

"Okay, Matt, level with me. Alpha to alpha. How much danger is my son in?"

Matt was shocked by the question, and didn't know what to say.

"Anna-" he started, voice gentle, but unsure.

"He's my child, Matt. I need to know," she pleaded. "Twins are considered risky for a male omega. They made sure I understood that when some green ultrasound tech misread the scan during Ed's second pregnancy. 

'The bodies of male omegas are built for carrying one child at a time.' 

Frankie's expecting triplets. How likely is it that my baby will get hurt? What did the doctor say?"

"She said that there's a sixty-five percent chance of complications; maybe even higher since Foggy almost went into a drop about a week after the bombing."

(Matt felt a little guilty that his words made it sound like the near-drop was caused by PTSD, but it wasn't like he could tell the truth).

Anna inhaled sharply, but nodded her understanding.

Matt wasn't sure what it was about her response, maybe it was because she was so nervous that she didn't narrate her nod, or maybe it was hearing her breath catch and knowing she was just as scared as he was, but suddenly Matt found himself spilling all of his thoughts and worries.

"She also suggested that he reduce his pregnancy to twins, but Foggy refused. He's convinced that we're meant to have triplets, and I want to share his conviction . . . .but, I'm scared.

They have him seeing a specialist whose area of expertise is high-risk pregnancies, and I guess that should make me feel better. I mean, they're monitoring every step of his pregnancy so closely, they should figure it out pretty quickly if anything is wrong; and they keep giving us advice on how to help keep Foggy healthy and prevent complications . . . .but there are so many needles, and tests, and 'just in case' measures that it's overwhelming.

How am I supposed to stay calm, when they did a full cardiac exam with an EKG 'just to be safe'?! 

They told me not to worry, but the fact that they thought there might be any need for that terrifies me!"

The older alpha wrapped him up in a warm embrace and held him close, stilling the shaking that Matt hadn't even realized had started, while shushing him softly.

"Oh Matt, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"No, no. He's your son. You deserve to know . . .and as hard as that was to say, I think I needed to say it out loud. 

It's hard, because I don't feel like I can talk about it with Foggy. Not really. 

It's not that we haven't talked about any of it, but his perspective is so different. It's his life on the line, and he just wants to do right by our children, but I'm worried about losing him. . . .it's helpful to talk about it with someone else with the same worries."

"I'm here anytime you need to talk, Matt."

"Thank you, Anna."

She squeezed him tighter for a moment, then let him go. Then, she fell silent for a few moment, probably studying Matt's face since she seemed to be staring at him.

"I mean it. Anytime, Matthew. That's what families are for, and you're a part of this family. We love you, and you shouldn't have to go through this alone," she said seriously.

Matt nodded and swallowed a lump that tried to rise up in his throat. He knew the Nelsons considered him family, but it still took him by surprise every time they were so openly affectionate with him. He never knew quite how to react.

Her words also filled him with guilt, as he realized that he was forcing Foggy to face the Daredevil situation alone. A situation in which their roles were reversed. Matt's life was the one on the line, and he decided the risk was well worth it, (much like Foggy had when he decided not to reduce his pregnancy), even though for Foggy the risk was terrifying. Matt was thinking about doing right by others, and while that was important to Foggy too, he was also concerned about losing Matt. Only Foggy had no one else who had the same fears with whom he could share his worries. Karen and Foggy's family didn't know about Matt's vigilantism, (and Matt had asked him to keep it that way), and Foggy barely knew Claire.

Foggy deserved a support system, but Matt had no idea how he could provide that while maintaining his secret, (a secret which was important if he was going to maintain Foggy's safety).

He decided to leave that question for another time, as Foggy and his father returned, and he and Foggy said their good-byes. They would stop by Bess' apartment to tell her their news before they headed home, and then Matt could think more on it once they were nestled safely together in bed.


	15. Rambling and Lullabies

"On my own, pretending he's beside me. All alone, I walk with him 'til morning. Without him, I feel his arms around me, and when I lose my way I close my eyes, and he has found me.

In the rain, the pavement shines like silver. All the lights, are misty in the river. In the darkness, that trees are full of starlight, and all I see is him and me, forever and forever . . .but I know, it's only in my mind. That I'm talking to myself, and not to him. And although, I know that he is blind, still I say, there's a way for us.

I love him, but when the night is over, he is gone, the river's just a river. Without him, the world around me changes, the trees are bare and everywhere the streets are full of strangers.

I love him, but every day I'm learning, my whole life, I've only been pretending. Without me, his world will go on turning, a world that's full of happiness that I have never knooooown."

The singing that had captivated Matt's attention, and stopped him on a nearby rooftop, stopped abruptly.

"Wow, that's a really depressing song. I don't know what I was thinking, I shouldn't be singing that for you guys," Foggy commented.

Matt heard the omega pad across the floor and sit on the couch.

"I mean, I'm all for telling the truth and all, but singing about unrequited love before you've even seen the light of day seems a little harsh. Especially when it's from a musical that's literally about the misery of the human condition.

I guess I'm already making terrible parenting decisions. You'll have to forgive me."

Matt should get back to his patrol, but he found himself entranced. He sat on the edge of the roof and continued to listen.

"Besides, love isn't always unrequited. Sometimes the person you love, loves you back, and that's the most amazing thing in the world. 

Your daddy and I, we love each other. That doesn't mean things are always easy. I mean, you guys were there for one of the biggest fights we've ever had. But, most of the time, I feel pretty lucky."

A smile crossed Matt's lips. He felt pretty lucky too. He'd hit the jackpot, and this conversation was just further proof of that.

"I hope, one day, each of you find someone who makes you feel as special and as treasured as he makes me feel. Maybe with a little less secrecy and vigilantism, but with just as much tenderness and love. I wouldn't want anything less for any of you in a partner. . .but I'm getting ahead of myself. Especially since none of you are going to date before you're thirty if Matt has any say in the matter . . .oh god, he might actually chase away your suitors with his ninja moves. I'm sorry. I'll try to stop him. I promise."

A laugh escaped Matt, but he couldn't deny what Foggy said, even to himself. The omega knew him too well.

"But don't worry, you'll know what love's like long before that. Romantic love, that's just one kind of love. There's the love of friendship; the love of family . . .and you guys are going to be so rich in love. 

My parents, your grandparents, they are going to adore you, and probably spoil you rotten. And Karen, our friend, you'll probably call her 'auntie,' and she'll be the cool aunt who lets you do things that your dad and I say you shouldn't do. She'll love you guys too. Then there's your daddy, Matt, he's going to love you guys so much you'll probably feel a little smothered. He can be that way, but it's just because he's lost so many people that he cared about. He holds tight, and he can be overprotective, but it means that he loves you; that he'd move heaven and earth for you. That's how much he'll love you.

. . .then there's me, and I already love you guys so much that I don't think I'm capable of loving any stronger than I already love you. I don't think my body can hold any more love.

I've heard that having children is like having your heart outside of your body, and I guess that makes sense, because you're still in my body, and I already sort of feel that way . . .if that makes any sense. It probably doesn't. I'm rambling. I do that. You'll get used to it . . .then you'll become teenagers, and it'll embarrass you, and you'll roll your eyes when I do, and I'll yell at you, and Matt'll scold you for mocking me, you'll talk back and get grounded, and we'll all just have a great time. . . .and I'm still rambling.

Maybe I should try another song. Something more kid-friendly. What you think?"

Matt let out a breath he had been holding during the last part of Foggy's speech. Foggy was going to be a wonderful parent. He didn't have any doubt of that. 

He was a little more worried about himself. He knew he would love his children. That wasn't the problem. But he wasn't sure if he'd be able to do right by them. What if he made mistakes? What if screwed up his kids? With his tendency to dress like the devil and punch criminals in the face, one could hardly argue that he was a well-adjusted adult. 

"Lullaby, and good night, in the skies stars are bright. May the moon's silvery beams bring you sweet dreams. Close your eyes now and rest, may these hours be blessed. 'Til the sky's bright with dawn, when you wake with a yawn."

Foggy's warbling broke into his worries, and reminded him that he wouldn't be parenting alone. He might make mistakes, but he'd have Foggy by his side, and between the two of them, they could do this.

The wail of a siren pierced the night air, and broke the spell that had fallen over Matt. He stood, and turned toward the sound, breaking into a sprint as he resumed his patrol.

~~~~~

Foggy was fast asleep when Matt made his way into the apartment hours later. His sleeping breath and heartbeat a welcoming lullaby emanating from their bed.

Matt stripped out of his gear, and took the fastest and quietest shower possible. Then he slipped slowly into the bed, and gently wrapped his arms around the slumbering omega. Foggy stirred slightly, leaning into the touch, but he didn't awaken.

Matt ran his hands over the swell of Foggy's abdomen and thought back on what he had overheard earlier. It wasn't the first time he'd heard Foggy talking to their babies, but something about it had stayed with him. It made him feel like he needed to add something, even though he usually felt awkward and tongue-tied when he tried to talk to the babies.

"Hi," he whispered, right next to Foggy's middle.

He waited a few seconds, listening carefully to see if his words had disturbed his sleeping mate, but Foggy's heartbeat stayed slow and steady, not giving the slightest indication of waking.

"I heard what Daddy said to you earlier, and I want you to know that he's right. You're going to be so loved. He's going to love you so much. Well, he already loves you so much.

I love you too, and I'm going to try to do my best to do right by you, but he won't even have to try. It'll be natural for him. He'll take care of you, and make sure you always have what you need, sometimes even before you know what that is. He's good like that. You're so lucky he's your dad.

Which is why I wanted to ask you guys something. Your dad, he's giving everything he's got to make sure you guys are safe. To make sure you get to be with us. But, um, doing that might hurt him, so can you please be careful? Be gentle with him, so he can be the amazing dad that he's meant to be. You wouldn't want to miss out on that . . .and, well, selfishly, I want him to be okay, because I love him . . .so, do you think you can do whatever you can to make things easier on him? Thank you."

Matt gave Foggy's baby bump another gentle rub, and then spooned up behind the omega, wrapping him up in his arms. He synced his breathing with his mate's, and drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "On my own" from Les Misérables and "Braham's Lullaby"


	16. Define 'Dangerous'

Foggy's fourth month of pregnancy brought with it a baby bump visible to all. Something that caused omega clients to flock to Foggy, but often made alpha, and even occasionally beta, clients uneasy. Not that Matt minded. He found that as Foggy's pregnancy progressed, he grew more and more jealous of Foggy spending time with other alphas. That made Foggy's nearly non-existent alpha client load a blessing.

Not that clients were the only alphas Matt had to contend with. Marci insisted on going with Karen and Foggy to buy paternity clothes, claiming that someone needed to make sure that Foggy didn't dress in flour sacks pretending to be suits for the rest of his pregnancy. She was quick to point out that Karen was too sweet to tell Foggy if something didn't look good, and 'Matt didn't really have _an eye_ for fashion.' (He seriously considered decking her for that one.)

Then there was Brett, who started stopping by nearly weekly with home-cooked meals "from Bess," and then lingered, asking Foggy all about how he was doing "to pass the information on to his mom, because she worried about Foggy." All of which, was a pretense, and Matt damn well knew it. 

Brett was making the meals himself, and _he_ was the one who was worried about Foggy, (even if Bess was probably worried too). The officer had been smitten with Foggy as long as Matt had known him, heavily evidenced by the way his heart went wild every time he saw the omega, and the faint scent of attraction pheromones that he released _every, **single**_ time he and Foggy were in a room together. Not that Foggy ever noticed. He completely bought Brett's "we are enemies connected by obligation, and I am very put out by it" act, which was frustrating. It made it impossible for Matt to call Brett out, because he made all of his actions appear to be the work of his mother, an older omega who treated Foggy like a second son. A clever move on Brett's part, because Matt would look like an asshole if he tried to stop "Bess" from doting on Foggy.

Then there was the fact that the legal profession was largely dominated by alphas, so nearly every time Foggy went to court, or took a meeting with opposing counsel, he returned with the faint scent of another alpha on him. Never more than the lingering note of having shared a small conference room, or judge's chambers with them. Perhaps the small contact point of a handshake. Logically, Matt knew that. However, something primal in him jealously roared 'mine! Stay away!' every time. 

Some illogical part of Matt kept screaming that all of the other alphas either wanted his omega, or wanted to harm his omega. It screamed that he should fight them off to keep his omega safe, or better yet, guard away his mate somewhere far from all alpha threats. (How was he going to survive several more months of this? His alpha side was becoming less and less rational, and refused to shut up.)

Foggy, on the other hand, had other concerns about the alphas around them. Particularly, their alpha colleagues in the legal profession.

"You should have heard him, Matt, he sounded so smug! 

He spent the entirety of the meeting talking down to me, with this 'let me try to explain the legal system to you in words you'll understand, sweetheart' tone! Then, when I actually made cogent arguments, he practically called me 'cute' and made a condescending remark to someone else in the room that essentially boiled down to 'look, isn't it adorable that the omega thinks he's a lawyer!'

He might not have used those words, but he may as well have! And he _did_ **actually** say 'Calm down! Should you really be getting so riled in your condition?' at one point in our meeting, as if I were too fragile to speak with any sort of passion or conviction while I'm pregnant. 

. . .And he's not the first opposing counsel to treat me like that! Ever since I started showing, it seems like they all think I can't do my job!

At the risk of sounding sexist myself, why do alphas seem to think I can't have a baby _and_ be an intelligent person with a career?!"

Matt didn't know how to answer, since he knew his own alpha side was currently going haywire and was only being held back by copious amounts of self-control. He didn't think Foggy was stupid, he never would. Nor did he think Foggy was incapable of being a lawyer. He knew his mate was a good lawyer with a level of conviction that infiltrated even his most irrational side, but that didn't mean his inner alpha didn't hate the idea of Foggy practicing law right now. Not because he wasn't capable, but because it seemed too dangerous. Too many alphas, too many criminals, too many situations where emotions might run too high and things might turn violent.

"Matt? Matt?!"

"Huh?"

"You agree with them, don't you?!" Foggy cried incredulously.

"No," Matt returned quickly, but it lacked the conviction it should hold.

"You don't think I can do my job, because I'm pregnant!"

"Not _can't_ , you're an excellent lawyer, but, maybe you should be cautious for the next few months?"

"Cautious?" Foggy repeated skeptically. "Meaning?"

"No dangerous cases?"

Foggy chuffed in annoyance.

"What exactly do you consider a 'dangerous case'?"

"Murder. Assault. Battery. Armed robbery. Breaking and entering. Anything gang or mob related. Drug-related cases. . ."

" . . .drunk and disorderly, public indecency, traffic violations, jaywalking," Foggy added facetiously.

"Foggy!"

"Matt, we're defense attorneys! Typically, that means our clients have been accused of a crime!

I mean, Karen was accused of murder, if she were our client now, would you want me to stay away from her case?!"

"She was innocent, that's different. You can represent innocent clients no matter what they've been charged with."

"How will I know if they're innocent?!"

"I could meet with all our potential clients first, and then you could take on some of the ones I know are innocent."

"That's ridiculous! One, you can't polygraph all our potential clients. Two, are you honestly suggesting that I let you pick out my clients for me?! How is that treating me like a capable lawyer?! Much less like a capable adult!"

"I know, but . . ." Matt trailed off, and reached for the omega; he grabbed his hand and reeled him in until he could rest his other hand over the swell of Foggy's middle. 

"You want to protect me and the babies," Foggy finished wearily. 

"Is that so bad?" 

"Is you wanting to protect me bad? No. Is you wanting to protect me by micromanaging my life bad? Yes. 

I'm an adult, and I'm capable of making my own decisions. That didn't change just because I'm pregnant."

"At least I'm not trying to lock you in a tall tower without any doors like Rapunzel," Matt joked.

"See, that's worrying, because I feel like the only reason you would bring that up, is if you'd considered it," Foggy returned. "I know my hair is luxurious and all, but it's not long enough or strong enough for you to climb, my prince . . . .although if you were the one who _put_ me in the tower, I guess that would make you the witch."

"Very funny."

"You started it."

Matt captured Foggy's smirking mouth in a kiss, and that was the end of that conversation. At least for the time being.


	17. What's in a Name Part I

"Matt, no," Foggy said firmly, as he walked away from the alpha.

"Come on, it would give our child something to aspire to," Matt wheedled, as he pursued his mate to the couch.

"Yeah, ass-kickings on the playground," the omega scoffed from his newly seated position.

"It would be a middle name, not a first name," Matt reminded, as he sat down and pushed his shoulder up against Foggy's.

"Still no. We're not naming any of our children 'Thurgood.'"

Foggy scooted down the sofa and away from Matt, as if breaking contact with the alpha would end the conversation.

"But Thurgood Marshall . . . ."

Next to him, Foggy let out a long-suffering sigh. Matt ignored him, but he didn't get far before he was interrupted by an impatient voice.

"Was amazing, and did many great things. I know. I've taken American History, I studied law, and I've been been around you for the past decade. I'm well aware.

I still thinking naming a child 'Thurgood' is cruel."

'Cruel' was an awfully strong word.

"But Foggy . . . "

"Marshall."

Silence fell between them as Matt contemplated the single word that rang between them. Did that mean . . . 

"What?"

"I'm willing to consider 'Marshall' as a middle name. That way you could still honor your legal idol, but our child's less likely to get beat up or teased to death if someone learns their middle name."

"You know, I'd think someone who voluntarily called himself 'Foggy' would be more open-minded about names," Matt muttered bitterly, needing to have the last word, even though he planned to agree to the compromise.

~~~~~

"Esther," Foggy said apropos of nothing on their walk into work a few days later.

Matt, however, spoke nearly fluent Foggy Nelson, and immediately understood the statement for what it was.

"Foggy, no. It's too old-fashion."

Next to him, Foggy scoffed and waved a hand dramatically through the air.

"Esther's making a comeback, Murdock. . .and it's biblical! I thought you'd like that!"

"How about Ruth?" Matt countered. "It's just as biblical, if not more so. After all, Esther is the only part of the Old Testament that they haven't found even fragments of among the Dead Sea Scrolls."

"Ruth?!" Foggy spluttered. "If you think Esther is old-fashion, how can you propose Ruth?! 

Ruth is an old lady name!"

"Think about it, 'Ruthie Nelson-Murdock.' It's cute!"

"No, it sounds like the name of a sitcom character.

Wait a second . . . .did you suggest Ruth because of Ruth Bader Ginsberg? 

Matt, what's your obsession with Supreme Court justices?!"

Matt shrugged. It wasn't an _obsession_. 

Foggy shook his head and made exaggerated 'disappointed noises.'

"Okay, let's get this out of the way. We'll start with the female justices. 

'Ruth' is already a 'no.'

'Sandra' isn't a bad name, but it just doesn't seem right for one of our kids.

'Sonia' doesn't seem quite right either.

'Elena' is-- wait . . . .

What do you think about 'Elena'?"

Matt heard the slight waver in Foggy's voice as he asked the question, and knew his mate was thinking of Mrs. Cardenas rather than Justice Kagan. The omega also carried an extra bit of tension in his shoulders as he awaited Matt's answer. This really mattered to Foggy; he was nervous about what Matt would say.

There was one response Matt could give, "I like it."


	18. Alpha-ly Advice

"Anna, were you jealous and paranoid when Ed was pregnant?" Matt questioned during one of his conversations with the elder alpha.

"Oh, yes.

I could hardly stand it when he interacted with other alphas, and he worked in hardware store where most of the customers were alphas. Including some incredibly stereotypical construction worker-type alphas who called him things like 'sweetie', 'doll' and 'baby.' 

That always bothered me, even when he wasn't pregnant . . .but when he was, I had to stop myself from picking fights with them every time.

Then there were all the sharp tools, the heavy loads, the oversized objects being carried through the store, power tools, and a cash box that someone might decide they want to rob. The store seemed like an accident waiting to happen. And even away from the store, every little thing seemed like a potential threat."

"What did you do?"

"Well, I tried to convince Ed that a hardware store was an incredibly dangerous place. Then I told him to take some time off, and focus on getting ready for our baby."

"He didn't go for it?"

"No. He said that he was just as capable as he was before, and he'd be careful about not straining himself. He'd be smart about it, limit his lifting, avoid squatting down for things on lower shelfs as he got farther along in his pregnancy; things like that. Which didn't seem like enough to me."

"Tell me about it. Foggy still wants to take on cases at the same rate he did before. He says we can't afford not to with our practice being so new, and just finally starting to get a decent number of cases.

The problem is, he wants to take on as many cases as possible. Which is a lot of work and stress. The paperwork alone is hours worth of work for each case, and I'm afraid he's running himself ragged. 

Then, there's the fact he'll take almost any case, including criminal cases, where the people involved might be dangerous . . . and honestly, even if he didn't take criminal cases, when he's at the courthouse trying other cases, there are violent criminals there. So it's still dangerous.

Then there's all the alphas in the legal profession. Most of whom are at least a little domineering and aggressive, and certainly hate to lose. What if Foggy crosses one of them? 

He's a good lawyer, he's bound to beat some sore-loser alpha . . .and then what?"

"I can understand your worries. I envisioned a million worse-case scenarios when Ed was pregnant.

Of course, there were no riots in the store, no fights broke out, no one dropped anything on Ed's head or ran into him with a 2'x4', no one lost control of a power tool, no racks full of sharp implements toppled over, the store wasn't robbed, and no handsome alpha customer tried to steal him away from me . . . .but that didn't mean that I wasn't completely convinced that all of those were real dangers to Ed anytime he set foot in the store."

"So you're saying I should stop worrying, because the things I'm worrying about probably won't happen? Because I'm not sure I can."

"No, I've been there. I know how impossible it is to stop obsessing over all the ways your mate could get hurt. What I'm saying is, I understand. 

It also sounds like some of your concerns, like Frankie not slowing down, are very reasonable. 

However, I also know my son. He's stubborn, and if you try to tell him what to do, he'll ignore you."

"So what should I do?" 

"Be honest with Frankie, and then maybe the two of you can find some sort of compromise."

"You don't think Foggy will think I'm crazy? The last time we tried to talk about this, he accused me of micromanaging his life."

"Ed said almost the same thing when I asked him to take time off. But after I talked to him about my worries, honestly, without trying to convince him to do things my way, he agree to some more precautions to help settle my nerves. 

We made sure we were always both on shift whenever he was working. He wasn't allowed to work in the store without me, but I needed to let him do his job unhindered, without me looming or interfering unless he was in danger.

It wasn't perfect. I still worried all the time, but I felt a little better knowing I was nearby. He felt a little smothered, but he understood that I was just worried because I love him."

"You think Foggy will listen?"

"I think my son adores you, and if you tell him that you're scared . . .if you're truly honest and vulnerable with him, I think he'll listen, and he'll do what he can to help."

"Thank you, Anna."

"Anytime, Matt."


	19. Tie-dyed with Bruises

Matt took Anna's advice, and he and Foggy decided that they would do their initial interview with all potential clients together. Then, they could decide together if they would take the case, and which one of them would lead it, if they took it. The new setup slowed down the process a little, but not nearly as much as working every case in tandem, or having Foggy sit out on the sidelines, would have done.

The compromise worked, until a jumpy omega came into their office, and refused to talk to anyone except Foggy. He visibly shied away from Matt, and even seemed slightly nervous around Karen.

Given the circumstances, Matt encouraged Foggy to meet alone with the quiet man, but as soon as the pair of omegas were shut in Foggy's office, Matt tuned right in to their conversation. He had a pretty good idea why the man was so jumpy, but he wasn't sure enough to leave Foggy all alone with him unmonitored. He could be wrong, and the jumpiness could be nerves about malicious intentions. It was unlikely, but Matt wasn't willing to rule it out.

Matt's suspicions were confirmed when the omega began relating tales about his mate to Foggy. She was a controlling, and downright abusive alpha, who was prone to fits of rage. She'd driven away all of her omega's friends, his family, every last support he had, and he was feeling trapped, alone and scared.

Foggy listened carefully, and then responded levelly with a range of legal options that were open to the omega. He also suggested some places that the omega could go if he felt uncomfortable taking on his mate legally, but wanted to get free of her control.

The omega considered his options, thanked Foggy, and then left without any indication of what he planned to do.

About a week later, another omega came in with a similar problem. Then another, and another. It seemed like oppressed omegas throughout Hell's Kitchen had heard about Foggy, and they were seeking out an advocate who they felt could truly understand them.

Matt was torn between pride and terror. His mate was making a difference. He was connecting with those who may not otherwise seek help, not only because he was an omega like them, but also because of who he was; Matt knew without a doubt that Foggy's warm and kind personality were just as important as his omega status. However, his pride in his mate's advocacy was tempered by his fear. 

Alphas typical didn't look kindly on people inferring in their bond. Especially not the type of alphas who were mistreating their mates. Many of them would stop at nothing to keep what they viewed as theirs, and Matt worried that might include retaliation against those providing aid to their mates. 

He considered talking to Foggy about his concerns, but decided it was better that he didn't. After all, it seemed like telling the omega would likely only have one of two results. One being that Foggy cut back on the number of abuse cases he took on, (or maybe even stopped taking them all together), to try to ease Matt's worry. And while that might ease Matt's nerves, he wouldn't truly want that. He didn't want to leave battered omegas at the mercy of their abusers. The other being that Foggy would continue just the same despite Matt's concerns. At best he'd acknowledge Matt's concerns but explain that he needed to do what he was doing, and at worst he would see Matt's worries as a statement about his ability to handle the cases, (or perhaps any cases at all). No, nothing good could come from telling his mate. Best to keep it to himself.

That didn't mean he wasn't worried, so he decided that the best route to take was to intervene in the mask if necessary. After one of the clients Foggy was helping decided that they were leaving their abusive mate, Matt would linger on a nearby rooftop, and make sure that they were able to leave safely. It was the right thing to do, and it meant that Matt knew what had happened with the angry mates, and how they were planning to respond. If they got violent, he could intervene and then turn them in, and then they would end up in jail rather than as a threat.

It eased his nerves, but it came at the price of far more injuries. He was finding that domestic violence situations were often very volatile and unpredictable. He had no plans to stop, or back off of his campaign against domestic abusers, but the alphas involved were often desperate and attacked in out-of-control, frenzied ways that were hard to predict. It was hard to dodge what he couldn't anticipate.

Mainly, he got a lot more bruises, but occasionally he got cut or scratched. Almost all of the wounds were completely superficial. The attacks were hard to dodge due to their unpredictable, desperate nature, but they also weren't strategic, so they often fell well short of any place that would do any real damage. 

That didn't mean that Foggy didn't notice the increase. It also didn't mean that he was any happier about said increase. The non-lethal nature of the injuries bought Matt very little goodwill.

"Matt, what have you been doing lately? Your body looks like it's been tied-dyed with bruises!"

"I'm fine, Fog."

"I'll be the judge of that."

"Okay," Matt acquiesced, pulling Foggy's hands to rest on his shoulders. "See for yourself. I'm all yours. 

Run your hands over me. Inspect every inch. Be as thorough as you like. _Take your time_ , and make sure _everything's in working order_."

The alpha dropped his voice and made his tone as suggestive as possible.

"Really? You're going to try to get me to drop this by trying to seduce me?!" Foggy scoffed as he dropped his hands to his side and took a step away from the alpha.

"Maybe."

"First of all, no. I don't get off on you being hurt, so the idea of checking you for injuries is not sexy at all. 

Second, I'm a blimp. A blimp that needs to pee every twenty minutes. As unsexy as you being hurt is, I'm at least twice as unsexy as that. 

Third, distracting me with sex never works, so why are you even trying? 

Four, even if I wanted to have sex, do you think I would sleep with you when you're so beat up you look like your natural skin tone is purple? No way! It's far too likely I'd hurt you, and that's not something I want to do."

Matt pressed a soft kiss to Foggy's lips.

"One, you may not get off on me being hurt, but you _definitely_ get off by running your hands all over me. You're one of the most tactile people I know. So don't pretend that feeling me up isn't a turn on."

"You arrogant-"

"Two, you're beautiful," Matt said with conviction, pausing to lay a solid smack on Foggy's lips, as if that somehow served as evidence for his statement. "You're round and full because you're _bringing life into the world_. You're having my babies, and that's as sexy as it gets. 

You've never been more gorgeous than you are now, and that's saying something, because you've set the bar pretty high up until now."

"Liar!"

"Feel my pulse, it's completely steady," Matt said earnestly, trying to lead Foggy's fingers to his neck.

"Okay, so you're delusional, not a liar," Foggy scoffed as he yanked back his hand.

"Foggy-"

"We're getting off track. The point is, you look like you've been used as a substitute for a punching bag, and I want to know why."

"Okay. I've been fighting some really inexperienced people."

"And that means you're getting _MORE_ hurt?! What happens if someone trained comes along?!"

"Trained people are actually easier. They're more likely to pick an expected combination. It makes predicting their movements easier.

Untrained people do all sorts of unexpected things, especially if they're desperate. It's not easy to predict what they'll do because they do all sorts of crazy things."

"How comforting."

"But the good news is, they're usually ineffective and sloppy, so they get one or two minor lucky shots in, and then they go down.

Honestly, I might look multi-colored, but all of the bruising is minor. It's not very deep, and most of the bruises are pretty small."

"There are still a lot of them."

"Better dozens of minor bruises, than one good shot from someone trained.

That's the downside of a skilled opponent. They're easier to predict, but if they do make any contact, they know how to make it count."

"Is this explanation supposed to be reassuring?!"

"Foggy, I-"

"No, really. Because it sounds like you can either be covered in 'minor bruises' from the wild attacks of unskilled opponents, or you can get one or two possibly fatal blows from a skilled opponent. Neither of which is really appealing, and both of which are scary as hell.

I mean, I appreciate the honesty, but I think it's kinda important that my heart stays in my chest, and I'm pretty sure it's trying to run away right now," he pressed a hand against his sternum. "Yep, definitely trying to break out."

Foggy's heart was definitely pounding. Matt could hear its frantic pace echoing in his ears, and he would have sighed out loud if he didn't think Foggy would interpret it as dismissing his worries. Honestly, how was it that Matt always ended up upsetting his mate when he was trying to calm him down? He just didn't know how to be honest AND not risk giving his mate a heart attack. It was a problem.

He gently rested his hand over the one Foggy had pressed against the middle of his chest, and took in an intentional slow breath.

"Breathe, Foggy. Nice and slow. Breathe with me."

"No, nah-uh, no! You don't get to scare me half to death, and then act like I'm the one being unreasonable!"

Under their hands, Foggy's heart rate ticked up another couple of notches with annoyance.

"Fair enough, but you still need oxygen, even if you're mad at me."

"You're lucky that my movement is restricted by my beached whale status, and that my energy levels can only be expressed in negative numbers right now, or I would kick your ass."

Usually a threat to 'kick his ass' would be met with an indulgent 'of course you would,' or a playful 'and I would deserve it, but you're far too kind and forgiving to do that.' However, this time, Matt's attention was drawn to another part of Foggy's statement.

"Are you really that tired?"

"What?"

"That your 'energy levels can only be expressed in negative numbers'?

Because that sounds like severe fatigue, and the doctors said that-"

"That could mean a whole bunch of bad things are happening. I know. 

We're going to the doctor tomorrow, and I have no plans of hiding how tired I've been feeling from her. However, I think discussions of my exhaustion can wait until tomorrow morning at my appointment."

"You were just nagging me about my bruises-"

"If you had plans to let a medical professional offer their opinion-"

"Claire-"

"Hasn't seen you in weeks!"

"Okay, fine, but for the record, I find it unsettling that you were feeling that low energy and you didn't say anything."

"Matt, if I told you every time something happened that could potentially mean that something was wrong, I wouldn't be able to talk about anything else . . .and I'd pretty much never stop talking."

Matt snapped his mouth shut and froze. Were things really that bad? Why hadn't he noticed? Stupid, stupid. He needed to pay closer attention to Foggy. 

(Some dark voice in the back of his head was vaguely musing if the fear he felt now was anything like the fear Foggy must feel when Matt returned from his patrols injured. Or honestly went on patrol at all, because he _might_ be injured. 

His mate hadn't been silent about his worries, and the current situation was making Matt far more sympathetic to his situation. The thought that so many things _could_ go wrong, and that there were apparently some signs and symptoms that they might already be happening, terrified Matt. It also made him feel guilty that he had ever burdened Foggy with a similar feeling.)

The omega sighed softly.

"I'm not saying that I think something's wrong, but it seems like every time I go to the doctor, even things that I think are nothing are possible signs of something horrible.

Remember how they had to run my liver numbers because I was itchy? 

Come on, my skin is stretching to accommodate three little humans living in my body, it's bound to stretch and itch! Which they acknowledged, but they said that sometimes it's a sign of liver-related complications, so 'better safe than sorry.'

Honestly, if that could be a sign of something dangerous, pretty much anything could be."

"But you haven't experience any other obvious symptoms? And you'll be honest with the doctor tomorrow about everything? Even the things that seem mundane?"

"Of course."

Matt must have shot him a dubious look, because Foggy ran a gentle hand down his cheek, and repeated the assurance again, but more softly and tenderly that time.

"Okay," Matt agreed with a nod.

Foggy placed a quick peck on his lips, probably meant as another reassurance, and made a soft sound. Matt wondered what his face must be doing for Foggy to be treating him like he wasabout to break, (especially when he knew how much Matt hated being treated as if he's fragile . . .even if he's feeling a little breakable). Tenderness, gratefulness and annoyance warred within him, until he decided to return the gesture in kind by gently placing a kiss on Foggy's forehead.


	20. A Father by Any Name

"I talked to our landlord, and he said we could add another room to the apartment. Well, I mean, in the same way that our room is just a corner portioned off by drywall with a door built in.

So, I figured we could do the same thing with the corner on the other side of the roof access stairs, and create a nursery. What do you think?" Foggy asked as Matt started cooking dinner.

"It sounds like a plan, but how much is that going to cost?"

"Well, I talked to my cousin, Nick, the one who does drywall, and he said he'd do it at cost, and he'd recruit some of my other cousins to help. 

His brother Aaron is a painter, and handful of the rest of our cousins are in construction, and several of them owe me favors for something or other. He's pretty sure they'll all work for free, or pizza and beer, which is the next best thing, and only charge us for the materials.

Even that'll still be a chunk of change, and I know money's tight, but we'll save hundreds if not thousands of dollars by having them do it, and I know they'll do it right."

"It's a good idea, Foggy. We do need to have space for the babies, and your way is more affordable than anything else.

We'll need to make sure we get good beer and pizza to thank your cousins."

"Saripino's and Budweiser."

"Budweiser?" Matt drawled in horror.

"Nelsons are people of simple tastes. If you try and get them one of your fancy, imported beers or some local microbrew they won't go for it. Trust me, I know."

"If you say so . . . ."

Matt finished chopping the vegetables, and added them to the risotto. He turned his attention fully back to his cooking, and had nearly finished when Foggy's voice interrupted his preparations again.

"Matt! Matt! Come here, quick!" Foggy called from the couch.

Matt removed the pan from the stove so the food wouldn't burn, and hurried to his mate's side as fast as he could. His heart pounded in his chest as he contemplated what could possibly be wrong.

"Are you okay?"

"Give me your hand," the omega demanded, as he pulled his mate's hand forward and placed it on his middle.

Matt felt a soft, fluttering pressure against his hand.

"Is that . . .?"

"Our baby. I've wanted to show you, but until now, you haven't been here when it's happened. 

So far, I've only felt one kicking, or a least only one at a time, I can't be sure it's the same one I guess, but . . . .wait, now one of the others is moving."

The alpha stood in awe as he felt a new set of stirrings, which were followed by another.

"And there's the third one. I guess they decided to show off for Daddy," Foggy remarked.

"That's amazing, Fog.

It doesn't hurt, does it?"

"No, it's fine. Well, it's amazing, like you said.

It's comforting, you know? Being able to feel them."

Matt smiled, and moved his hand around the curve of Foggy's abdomen, tracking the movement in his mate's womb.

"Ow."

"Fog?"

"Okay, I guess sometimes it hurts, but usually it's just- ow . . . just fine, and not painful, but- ow . . . One of them seems to have found a tender spot."

Matt lower his head next to Foggy's baby bump, and whispered, "Stop that now. No hurting Daddy. Be careful."

Foggy chuckled.

"It's not like they can help it. And it doesn't really hurt that much."

Matt rubbed soothing circles against Foggy's skin, and while the movement continued, Foggy seemed to relax, no longer tensing with some of the kicks.

"Okay, how did you do that?"

"We have an understanding."

"Is that so?

They're not even born yet, and it's already starting. They'll listen to Daddy, but they won't listen to me," Foggy bemoaned teasingly.

"No, we just know how to communicate. We have a lot in common. 

You keep us all safely bundled up in your warmth and love, and your heartbeat is the soundtrack of our lives. Is it any wonder they love you just as much as I do?

We've had talks about it. We're all big fans of Daddy."

Foggy lit up in Matt's world-on-fire as he flushed violently.

"You're the biggest sap in the world," Foggy choked out in embarrassment.

"Proudly," Matt responded as he pecked a kiss against Foggy's lips. "I have the best mate in the world. It seems like I should respond accordingly."

"So, when do you and our babies have these talks? I've never heard them."

"We talk while you're asleep."

"Hmmm. Making secret plots and promises so they'll like you more?"

"Impossible!"

"I don't know. You're pretty charming."

"And you're sunshine, rainbows and friendship in human form."

"Umm . . . . What does that mean?"

"You're warm, and beautiful, and radiant, and you exude caring and kindness."

"When I'm not annoying, or awkward, or grumpy and sarcastic as I bite off other people's heads."

"Awkward is part of your charm, and even the sun goes behind the clouds sometimes."

"Oooookay."

Foggy was clearly uncomfortable, which made Matt feel a pang of sadness. His mate's discomfort clearly started when Matt started complimenting him, a common pattern, but one that still hurt every time. Foggy didn't have the best self-esteem, and it both baffled and frustrated the alpha to no end. How could his omega not know how amazing he was?

"Moving on," Foggy transitioned awkwardly. "I noticed you called me 'Daddy,' but that's what I've been calling you. Don't you think it'll be confusing if we're both 'Daddy'?"

Matt contemplated the question. He was right, it would be confusing, but he hadn't given it much thought before. Foggy just seemed like the 'Daddy' type. Warm, nurturing, protective and just all-around parental. Matt couldn't compare to that. Yes, he'd heard Foggy refer to him as 'Daddy' when he listened in on Foggy's chats with their babies, but he'd always felt unworthy of the title. He was just 'Matt,' he wasn't someone's dad. Sure, he technically fathered the babies Foggy was carrying, but beyond providing genetic material, he'd done nothing to deserve a parental title. Not like Foggy, who seemed like a natural, easily talking to their babies and planning for their arrival, all while he literally risked his life for them.

"Hey now, Murdock, don't make that broody face. Our babies love you too, and you're just as much their parent as I am," Foggy admonished.

Matt sighed. Foggy could be far too perceptive sometimes.

"It's just when I think of you, I think 'Daddy'-"

"Kinky . . ."

"Not like that!" Matt dismissed. "I just think, you're the epitome of what a child means when they say 'Daddy,' and I'm . . . .well, I'm 'the Devil.' I'm someone who frightens children."

"Okay, Matt, first of all, you're not the actually devil. You're 'the Devil of Hell's Kitchen,' and he _saves_ kids, and protects the innocent, and is pretty much a superhero. 

Kids aren't afraid of Daredevil, they want to be like him . . . .which, is a whole different heart attack I'll have to have later, if our kids want to fight crime like you-"

"I wouldn't let them!"

"Nice hypocrisy, but my point is, even the children of Hell's Kitchen know you protect the city from bad guys. You make them feel safe, and I'm sure you'll do the same for our kids. You'll make them feel safe and loved, and you'll teach them the difference between right and wrong, and you'll probably also have them quoting Thurgood Marshall before they even go to kindergarten, but _that's_ what parents do. You'll be a natural. . . .Daddy."

Matt still wasn't convinced, but he couldn't help the surge of warmth he felt in his chest. Daddy. He was going to be a 'daddy' despite everything; all the things he thought had conspired to mean he would live his life alone.

"If I'm 'Daddy,' then what will the kids call you?" he asked hesitantly.

He wanted this now. He wanted to be 'Daddy,' but he could only do that if he knew Foggy had an equally fitting title. Someone like Foggy couldn't be defined by something stuffy like 'Father,' or any address that was any less remarkable than he was.

"'Pa'?"

"This isn't _Little House on the Prarie_ , Fog."

"'Pops'?"

Matt shook his head. It wasn't right.

"'Pater'?"

"Latin? Really?”

”We use Latin all the time in our profession! And you’re Catholic, so lots of Latin in our household!”

“Foggy, no.” 

”‘Vater’?” 

”Since when do we speak German?” 

"'Foggy'?"

"You're not serious, are you? You're not going to let our kids call you by your first name!"

Foggy sighed.

"You sure have an awfully strong opinion about what our children call me."

"It's just, it needs to be perfect. If I'm taking 'Daddy' from you, whatever they call you needs to be perfect," Matt replied desperately.

"You didn't 'take' anything from me. And honestly, I don't really care what our kids call me. They could call me 'Father,' or 'Progenitor,' or 'Pappy,' or even 'Mommy.' It doesn't matter what they call me. All that matters is that whatever they call me, it'll mean I'm theirs and they're mine."

The words caught Matt off-guard.

"How do you do that? How do you make everything okay? You're amazing." Matt wondered.

He caught Foggy in a tight hug, and kissed him soundly.

"I understand what you're saying, but if it's all the same to you, I was thinking you could be 'Poppa.'"

"Works for me," Foggy acquiesced, as he pressed a smile to Matt's cheek.

"Now that that's settled . . . .I should probably reheat the food. 

I guess dinner's going to be late tonight."

"No problem. I'll just be over here eating my way through this loaf of zucchini bread," Foggy commented as he sat at the counter.

"Foggy!"

"What?! I'm hungry! And I can't seem to get enough zucchini bread. 

I've been craving it all day . . . Most days.

Don't worry, I'll eat dinner too."

"Our kids are going to be green from all the zucchini."

"And we'll love them anyway. Besides, you would never know, unless I told you."

"I guess you have a point . . .but seriously, save room for dinner. Man can't live on zucchini bread alone."

"Says you."

"Foggy . . ."

" . . .But I wouldn't want to waste the delicious dinner you're making," the omega replied dutifully. 

"That's more like it."

"Besides, this loaf is almost gone. I'll have to bake more while you're out tonight."

Matt groaned, but he felt fond. It was days like this, that he thought maybe everything would be okay.


	21. What's in a Name Part II

"How about 'Matthew'?"

"How would you feel about naming one of our kids 'Franklin'?"

"Absolutely not! But you know I don't really like my name. You don't seem to have a problem with yours."

"I still wouldn't want to name one of our kids after me."

"Not even as a middle name?"

Matt shook his head.

"What about changing it up for a girl? 'Matilda' or 'Madeline' . . .oh! We could spell it 'M-a-t-t-e-l-y-n-n.' Kinda based on your name, but still different."

"Foggy, no. Besides, didn't we already agree on 'Elena Anne'?"

"Yeah, but we asked not to know the sexes of the babies. For all we know, we could be having three girls, and we've only agreed on one girl name. . . .and we only have a middle name for a boy."

"We have time."

"Yeah, but given how long it can take us to agree, we should probably keep throwing around ideas."

"How about 'Edward,' for your dad? I mean, we're using a variation of your mom's name if we have a daughter."

"I love my dad and all, but _Twilight_ completely ruined that name forever for me. I don't want to name our son after a sparkly vampire."

"We'd be naming him for his grandfather, not a fictional vampire!"

"Unfortunately they both have the same name!

. . . .there is another name I've been thinking about, if you're okay with it . . .what about 'Jack'?"

The question, and the soft, hesitant way it was spoken, brought Matt up short. He gaped for a second, unsure of how to respond.

"'Jack'?" he repeated weakly.

"I mean, if it makes you uncomfortable, there are plenty of other names . . .but I thought it might be nice to honor your dad."

Emotion welled up inside of Matt, and he didn't know whether he wanted to cry or hug Foggy as tightly as possible. Maybe both. In the end, he settled for a slightly teary nod, and a quick hug.

"I think that's a great idea."


	22. A Burning Desire

Matt could feel Foggy staring at him from across the room, but he wasn't sure why. The omega's heart rate had ticked up several beats per minute, which had Matt a little concerned, but when he turned to face the omega, it only served to increase the tempo of his mate's rushing blood.

"Are you okay, Fogs?" Matt asked, barely hiding his concern.

"Mhmm," Foggy replied, his response slightly strangled.

Well, something was wrong. Foggy wasn't usually quiet, and he seemed to be holding something back. Plus, his temperature seemed to be raised, and his cheeks glowed brightly, (he was flushed?). 

Maybe the omega had a fever? And the strangled sound was because he was trying to not to vomit, (honesty, vomiting had become commonplace, too much food, not enough food, the wrong food, anything seemed to set his mate off). Flu? A cold?

Matt moved closer to investigate, and that's when he noticed . . .

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh. It's the hormones. I can't help it."

"There's nothing wrong with . . . "

"What, me being incredibly horny? Pretty much all of the time?

It's a pretty big distraction. I spent more time fantasizing about your ass, after you walked by my office window, than I did doing paperwork. I may have even drawn a sketch of said ass on one of the file folders, which Karen then made me recycle and replace with one that did not have a crude sketch of your ass drawn on it."

Matt chuckled.

"Is this funny to you? I feel like I'm going to drown in sexual desire, and my mate, Matt 'sex on legs' Murdock, thinks it's a laughing matter?!

You won't think it's funny when I burst into flames from repressed lust. I can't act on this at work. It's incredibly unprofessional to press your law partner against the wall and stick your tongue down his throat. I know that, but you can't walk without shimmying, or move without flexing. You even drink coffee like a tease. 

You're like Narcissus, from the Greek myth. A perfect specimen, the most beautiful of men, but blind so you can't get caught up in your own reflection. And I'm Echo, but instead of fading away, I'm going to spontaneously combust from all the sexual tension. Then all you'll have is a pile of Foggy ashes. We'll see if you're still laughing then!"

The image was disturbing, and almost humorous, (if it weren't for the fact that Matt was always on edge, constantly fearing that something might happen to Foggy; so even the ridiculous prospect of 'death by excessive horniness' made him feel itchy with nervousness). Somewhere between comfortable banter, and the type of rambling that meant Foggy was trying to distract Matt from the fact something was wrong. . . .and yet, a few words stuck out in a way that they maybe shouldn't have, and occupied Matt's attention.

"No need to combust. The work day is over, so we can go home, and . . . . "

"No! Matt, I'm not going to subject you to all of this," a streak of circling fire showed that Foggy was gesturing broadly at himself, "just because my hormones are urging me to have sex until your dick splits me in half . . .or I pass out; whichever happens first."

"There will be no passing out, and no splitting you in half!" Matt answered in alarm.

"Of course not! Under normal circumstances my sexiness is only moderate, and right now, I'm probably about equal to pond scum in sex appeal. I don't expect you to power through my sea of unsexiness; don't worry."

"No! That's not what I mean.

I mean, I'm not going to hurt you, not that I don't want you.

Fog, I've said it before, but I don't mind saying it again. You, pregnant, is very sexy to me. The way your body has stretched and reshaped for our babies, it's perfect. It means they're growing, and you're making a safe space for them. 

You're amazing. You're doing something I could never do, in a way only you could; with gentleness and love guiding every step."

"You think cursing my inability to keep down food, and grumbling and complaining constantly about the downsides of pregnancy is 'love and gentleness'?"

"You sing to the babies, usually lullabies or songs from musicals, when you think no one's listening. You also talk to them. You've changed your lifestyle however the doctors have asked you to, to give our babies their best shot. In fact, the only way you've defied the doctors, is refusing to let them end the life of one of our children before it even began. Even though that puts you at risk. 

Then there's the way you guard your middle any time anyone talks about something bad that happening to a child. Like you're trying to protect our babies from even the thought of something bad happening to them.

If that's not love, I don't know what is."

Matt ran a hand through Foggy's hair, and leaned in to kiss Foggy's forehead and then to peck him on the lips.

"I'll say it again, Foggy, you're amazing."

The smell of salt and the chemical mixture of tears hit the air. 

"If you say so," Foggy replied, his voice heavy with emotion. "Ugh, why does everything make me cry?"

Another gentle kiss was placed on his forehead.

"So, now that we've established that you're amazing, and wonderful, and sexy, and you've expressed a . . . Um, 'burning' desire for sex, maybe we could go and do that.

I want to, if you do."

"Really? Even though I threw up after lunch? 

I already brushed my teeth, because, yuck! . . .but I'm pretty sure I could brush my teeth three or four times, and you would still be able to smell it, and, ugh, taste it, too. 

Plus, even if you really do find my gigantic size sexy, my larger circumference makes a whole lot of things harder in the bedroom department.

Are you sure you want this?"

"Love you," a kiss to Foggy's forehead; "Want you," another kiss, this time on the tip of his nose; "No matter what," a kiss on the lips, that he quickly turned demanding and deepened.

Foggy broke away panting.

"Okay, I believe you. Now let's go home before I do something stupid, like suggest we have sex somewhere other than a bed. I really don't know if my body can handle that right now, but I'm also not sure I'll be able to think clearly if you kiss me like that again."

"Don't worry, I'm taking you home, to make love to you on a soft, warm bed covered in the finest silk sheets."

"You and those sheets. I mean, I get it, but still."

"Come on," Matt urged, grabbing Foggy's hand and insistently towing him toward the door. "You're not the only one who's feeling impatient. Home. Bed. Now."

"Yes sir," Foggy agreed, as he maneuvered them into a more traditional guiding position as they walked out of their office door.


	23. Walking Partners

"It's too hot to walk," Foggy whined petulantly.

"Come on, Foggy. I'm your walking partner," Karen stated dutifully. "I'm supposed to help you stay active, and between you and me, I think Matt might just fire me if I don't keep up my end of the bargain."

Matt frowned at the conversation in the reception area of the office. It sounded like Foggy was avoiding one of his daily walks, and that wouldn't do at all. He really hoped Karen could convince Foggy to go, despite the heat. It wasn't that he would fire her if she didn't succeed, but he would be disappointed, though not necessarily disappointed in her. 

Foggy's doctor had suggested that he keep active by taking several short, casual-paced walks throughout the day, and Karen had volunteered to help; saying that walking was less boring, (and easier to keep slow paced), when you had someone to walk and talk with you. So far the plan had worked, and Matt was grateful. It meant that someone else was helping him keep Foggy as healthy as possible, and that the omega had time to bond with one of his few omega friends, (his only omega friend? It was hard to know. Foggy had a lot of acquaintances Matt didn't know, but he didn't think any of them could really be considered friends).

He'd also noticed that Karen had been quieter and more nervous since toward the end of the Fisk case. Something was wrong, but while the two of them had reached an understanding and put any of the tension that had been between them behind them, he didn't feel like they were at a point in their relationship where he could ask her about it. Instead, he hoped that if she spent time alone with Foggy, who she seemed to adore, and who was always good at comforting people, she might confide in him. Perhaps the two omegas spending time together could be a win for both of them.

"He can't fire you because you didn't walk his mate like a golden retriever. Besides, I'm an equal partner in this firm, and I won't let him."

"Either way, it's time for our lunchtime walk. It'll be over before you know, so let's just get it over with."

"I can't. I've melted into my desk chair."

"Foggy!"

"Come on! You're sweating and fanning yourself with the newspaper, so I know you've noticed how hot it is . . .and, you're not even pregnant! Take however uncomfortable you feel in the heat right now, and multiply it by a hundred. At least. That's how I feel. Please leave me to become a pile of liquified goo in peace."

Maybe Matt should intervene . . .

"You can't battle the heat for even fifteen minutes? Not even if I need some Foggy-time?" Karen wheedled. "Who else can I ask to give me their honest opinion on which alphas are worthy of my time?"

"I'm right here! You could have Foggy-time right here and right now!"

"But it would be weird to talk about that with your mate around. In case you haven't noticed, he's super possessive, and he somehow always seems to know when we're talking about alphas.

And, we could get lunch at that café you like after we finish walking. The one with the brownies?

I've noticed that you haven't eaten yet."

"It's too hot to eat. My stomach's rebelling at even just the thought of food."

"You have to eat. You're eating for four! 

Besides, doesn't the café have air conditioning? We'll eat inside. You'll cool down a little, get some food, and then we'll come back and try to finish our work quickly so we can go home early . . .that is, if the bosses say it's okay.

I could really use the break. Please?"

"You don't play fair, Karen," Foggy accused.

"Does that mean you're coming?"

"Yeah, but you're the one who'll have to explain what happened to Matt, if I spontaneously become a puddle on the sidewalk."

"Not a chance. If that happens, I'm fleeing for Canada. I don't have a death wish. . . .but I think we'll be okay."

The pair continued bantering on their way out of the office, and Matt breathed a sigh of relief. Karen's plan worked. He wasn't sure how he felt about her plan involving getting Foggy to gossip about alphas she found attractive, but he supposed beggars couldn't be choosers. He did appreciate that she managed to talk Foggy into eating. That seemed more important, anyway. If she could make sure Foggy did what he needed to do, they could talk about whatever they wanted . . . (Well, minus one, carefully-guarded secret, but Foggy wasn't about to let that slip. Matt knew that much).

Now if only Karen could keep working her mojo for the next few months. It was June, and the heat was already oppressive. July and August would probably only be hotter, and while Matt was sympathetic to what must be Foggy's very uncomfortable circumstances, he wasn't about to allow that to become an excuse for the omega to cut corners in his self-care. No matter how miserably hot or inconvenient any of it became.


	24. What's in a Name Part III

"'Joshua'? 'Samuel'? 'Ezra'? 'Isaiah'? 'Jeremiah'? 'Daniel'?"

Matt shook his head after each suggestion.

"What about 'Jonah, 'Micah,' or Nahum'? Or, how about 'Habakkuk,' 'Zephaniah,' or 'Haggai'?"

"Did you just pull out a Bible and start reading through the table of contents?"

"Maybe . . . I didn't suggest 'Lamentations' or anything, but I thought you might appreciate something biblical, Matthew Michael."

Matt considered an moment, and then said, "'David.'"

"'David'?"

"If we're going with something biblical, we might as well go with someone who faced a giant."

"'David,'" Foggy repeated. "I think I like it. . . 'David Marshall Nelson-Murdock.' What do you think?"

"Sounds good to me. . . And you know,-"

"Your hearing is excellent? Yeah, yeah.

Just one question, if we pair 'David' with 'Marshall,' what should we use as a middle name with 'Jack'?"

"'Franklin'?" Matt suggested with a mischievous grin.

"Absolutely not!" Foggy spluttered. "I thought I made that clear. There will be no passing on of that name to any of our children, in any form, even as a middle name.

To be clear, that means 'Francine,' 'Frances,' 'Francesca' or any other feminine variation of my name is out too."

"Okay, okay," Matt relented, raising his hands in surrender.

"'Michael'?"

"If you're trying to get revenge-"

"I'm not! 'Michael' is one of the most common middle names ever, and 'Jack Michael Nelson-Murdock' sounds good. Plus, it's a nice parallel to 'David Marshall.'"

"I'll concede the point, counselor."

"So, after five and half months, we've agreed on three names . . .which is great, if we have two boys and a girl; but we should probably come up with a few more names, just in case things don't work out that way."

"We could just change the names we have if we need to, and we could be done."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, for example, 'Jack Michael' could be 'Jacqueline Michaela' for a girl."

"Okay, that one works, but what about the other two? How are you going to make 'Elena' a boy's name? And what's the feminine form of 'David'?"

"'Elon' and 'Davina'?"

"Yeah, I don't think so, Matty."

Matt sighed.

"Alright, I guess the conversation continues."


	25. Stuck

Matt was about an hour into his patrol, when he started to feel like something was 'off.' He couldn't explain it. Physically, he felt fine, but there was something not quite right. The 'wrongness' sat in the pit of his stomach, and made him nervous.

As he wrestled with the feeling, he found himself making his way closer to home. Spiraling and looping back toward his apartment by degrees, unwittingly, until he realized what must be causing the uneasiness he was feeling.

Foggy's heartbeat raced and strained at the edge of Matt's perception. Galloping along, quick and distressed.

Matt turned and made a beeline for their home. Something was wrong. Foggy needed him, and he would be there. He wouldn't allow anyone or anything to hurt his mate.

Once he arrived at the apartment, he ran down the steps from the roof access, and traced the nervous thumping to . . .the bathroom, where Foggy was in the tub?

There was no blood, and the omega didn't seem to have fallen. In fact, as best as he could tell, his mate was just laying in tepid water that smelled of bath salts and bubbles. The only sign that anything was amiss other than Foggy's racing heart, was the harsh breaths that echoed against the bathroom walls.

"Are you alright?" Matt asked uncertainly.

"Oh, Matty, thank goodness you're here. . . . . Um, uh, I'm stuck," Foggy admitted sheepishly.

"You're what?"

"Stuck. 

I took a bath to try to relax some of my achy muscles, and now I can't get back up. The bathtub is slippery, and my balance is all thrown off by my pregnant belly. I can't seem to get the leverage to sit or stand. I'm just sort of stranded, like a beached whale."

Matt stood in place slightly dumbfounded for a moment. Stuck. Huh. He supposed on some levels it made sense, but it still struck him as strange.

"A little help here? I'm turning into a giant prune."

Right. Matt drained the water, and then helped lift Foggy to his feet, holding tightly to his mate and guiding him gently out of the tub even after he had him upright. Then he wrapped the omega in a fluffy towel and held him close.

"I was worried," Matt admitted as he placed a gentle kiss on Foggy's forehead. "I heard your heart racing, and I was afraid something horrible had happened."

"Well, to be fair, realizing I was stuck in the tub until I got some outside help was a little alarming. I wasn't expecting you to be home for another couple of hours, and the idea of laying there, stranded, for that long, was distressing."

Matt made a soft noise of agreement. That sounded terrible.

"Sometimes I hate being pregnant. I have to struggle to put on my shoes. My clothes don't fit. Even the paternity clothes are getting snug, because they don't make them for male omegas expecting multiples, because male omegas aren't supposed to have multiples. 

I'm tired all the time. I need the bathroom constantly. It's hard to keep down food . . .and now, I can't even stand up without help. It makes me feel completely helpless, and I hate it!"

The smell of salt and hormones filled the air, signaling that Foggy had started crying. Matt tightened his grip on the omega, and rubbed his back gently.

"I can only imagine, Fog. That must be really frustrating, but it's only a few more months. You can do this. You're amazingly strong."

"Which is why I can't stand up on my own. I'm so strong I can't even lift my own gigantic body out of a tub. Come to think of it, standing from a chair isn't exactly easy either," Foggy grumbled.

"Fog. . ."

"Yeah, yeah, I know what you mean, and I appreciate the support. . .and not to complain, because I really enjoy hugs, but your body armor is really hard and uncomfortable. Maybe you could either go back out and use it, if you haven't finished your patrol, or take it off and take me to bed?"

"As you wish," Matt answered before stripping off the armor.

"Your first Daredevil costume might have been more fitting for that line."

"Huh?"

"The black clothes and mask screamed 'Dread Pirate Roberts' . . . .well, or maybe Zorro? Either way, the red leather doesn't seem to fit the whole Wesley image."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's just go to bed."

Matt pulled insistently on Foggy's hand and led him to their waiting bed. He fussed with Foggy, putting on his pajamas for him, and then tucking him snugly under the sheet, (it was too hot for anything more than that), before throwing on sweatpants and following in behind him. He wrapped the omega up in his arms, and settled them both on the bed.

"Good night, Fog," he whispered quietly, brushing his lips softly against the nape of the omega's neck.

The only answer he received in response was a snuffling snore.


	26. Hot as Hell . . .Hell's Kitchen

" . . .too hot. I mean, I know it's Hell's Kitchen, but does the weather have to take the name so literally? . . . .already sweat through my shirt, and we're only halfway . . . .air conditioning . . . . Hide in a walk-in freezer . . . .penguins and icebergs . . . . . "

Foggy was keeping up a steady stream of chatter on their walk to work, but Matt found himself distracted. He caught bits and pieces of what the other man said, but his mind was a dozen other places. 

( _Things had been almost too quiet on the streets lately, almost like the criminal element was holding its breath after Fisk went away. Biding it's time as it decided who would fill the power vacuum._

**Foggy kept getting stuck places. He had trouble getting out of bed without help, and he often sunk too deep into the couch to rise to his feet unassisted. Worse, he'd been having dizzy spells.**

**Foggy's doctors had run a dozen tests, and determined that the dizziness was caused by 'normal circumstances' such as a lack of vitamins, and restricted blood flow caused by babies' weight compressing Foggy's inferior vena cava. They prescribed higher doses of certain vitamins, and given Foggy a list of positions to avoid. Then they assured them that 'there was nothing to worry about yet' . . . Which was probably meant to be comforting, but the word 'yet' weighed heavily on Matt's mind. 'Yet' as if something concerning happening was a matter of 'when' not of 'if'.**

**_Domestic abuse seemed to be on the rise with the heat. Matt had stopped three abusers in the last week alone. He still hadn't told Foggy that he'd followed up on his cases in the mask, and he was torn on whether or not he should. He knew he should be honest . . . But he didn't want to seem like he thought the omega was incapable of taking on the cases alone. That wouldn't fly with Foggy. Besides, his moonlighting had more to do with his rage that anyone could mistreat their mate than it did with his confidence, or lack there of, in Foggy's legal abilities._** ).

"Shit! Matt, you're bleeding," Foggy's voice broke into his thoughts, hissed quietly but vehemently.

The words were accompanied by Foggy bringing what felt like a cloth handkerchief to the back of Matt's head.

"Where?" Matt questioned pointlessly.

"Back of the skull, but don't act like you didn't know that. 

You need to tell me these things. What do you think would have happened if someone other than me had noticed first?"

"I didn't notice before you did, and we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, thank you for taking care of it."

"You didn't notice? You couldn't feel it? . . . Or-or _smell_ it?

Aren't you the one who charged into my office the other day when I got a paper cut, because you could smell the blood? 

'Foggy, you're bleeding. Are you okay?'

Your bloodhound nose can pick up a few drops of my blood from across the office, but not a trickle of yours just on the other side of your head?"

"Well, I pretty much always . . . . . ."

Matt stopped, reconsidering the statement he was about to make rather matter-of-factly, but it was too late.

"You pretty much always what?!

Smell like blood?!"

Matt shrugged.

"I hate this!" Foggy declared; his heart rate rising sharply.

"I know," Matt agreed, hoping to calm the other slightly.

"You know?! What kind of response is that?!

You didn't even notice you were bleeding! You're pretty much always bleeding apparently, or have blood left on you from when you were bleeding earlier, or whatever would make you constantly smell like blood . . .and you're acting like that's no big deal!

I hate this! I hate that this is our normal!"

The omega continued to get more and more worked up; breath catching, heart pounding, blood pressure rising.

"We don't have to talk about this now," Matt countered, (near pleaded; Foggy needed to calm down).

"You're right," Foggy replied bitterly, before contradicting his own statement by adding, "But first I think I deserve an explanation. What happened? Who did that to you?"

"Mr. Almeda," Matt relented. "He threw a glass at me, and I dodged, but when it shattered against the wall behind me, one of the pieces ricocheted back and cut me."

"Mr. Almeda? As in . . . ."

"The mate of the omega who came by your office the day before yesterday. You tried to help her, but there was no legal recourse, so you suggested a shelter for omegas . . . Well, she tried to go, but he tried to stop her. He was going to kill her, so I intervened.

She's safe now, and he's in Metro General with a restraining order pending against him."

"You listened in?"

"You seem to be forgetting the fact that she would be dead if I hadn't been there."

"Don't get me wrong, I'm glad she's okay, but don't you think you should have told me that you were following up on one of my cases? That seems like something I should know.

How many of my private meetings have you listened in on?"

"All of them."

"All of them?!"

"First of all, it's not really that easy to tune them out. Second of all, domestic abuse cases are dangerous! Most abusers would rather kill their victims than let them get away, and they're violent and vindictive enough to go after whoever tried to convince their mate to leave them. I was worried you might be in danger!"

"So that makes it okay?!

That means it's fine that you're bleeding more often than not?!

Matt, I don't want to lose you! You're my mate; I can't lose you! Especially not right now."

"You won't."

It was a throw away comment, meant to calm the omega more than anything. However, the omega didn't seem amused. Foggy stopped walking and turned to look at Matt; the tension palpable between them.

"Promise me."

"What? Do you want me to cross my heart?"

It was wrong; such a wrong thing to say, but Matt was nervous. He knew he couldn't honestly promise that to Foggy. He couldn't. He was also pretty sure that if he didn't, his mate was going to have a panic attack right there, in the middle of the sidewalk. So he was stalling for time with sarcasm and crappy jokes, which, if he'd read the change in the characteristics of Foggy's heartbeat correctly, was making the omega angry.

"Do **not** make fun of me. I'm hormonal, and pregnant, and your **mate**. I didn't ask for anything all that strange. Don't be a dick."

Matt considered. Foggy's heart had been racing for most of the conversation, and he could hear it straining. Too much stress. Too much worry. He needed to do something.

"I swear," he heard himself say as he crossed his heart with an exaggerated "x" motion.

Foggy let out a humorless chuckle, clearly not amused by the gesture, but his heart started slowing down, so Matt couldn't regret it too much.

They continued their journey to the office, and Matt thought about his next moves the whole way. Clearly Daredevil was a trigger for Foggy, but just as certainly, Matt couldn't stop. How could he balance the two?


	27. A Pregnant Omega in a Bar

Matt had no idea why Foggy wanted to play pool, since the omega could barely bend in the middle. He was even more surprised that Josie let Foggy into her bar when he was obviously carrying a litter, (usually she would kick a pregnant patron out, but she always did seem to have a soft spot for Foggy). Yet there they were, playing pool on a Friday night, in a dive bar, with their secretary. Sweating and rubbing elbows with some of Hell's Kitchen's more colorful residents.

Matt and Foggy were playing as a team against Karen. The argument being that Foggy was too pregnant to bend over the table, and Matt couldn't see to line up his shots. So Foggy directed Matt to correct position, helped him line up his pool cue, and then left him to take the shot. Not that they had had much of a chance to implement this system yet. Karen seemed determined to let them play as little as possible; sinking balls left and right.

"Fog, are you sure she's not cheating? It sure sounds like cheating to me," Matt commented playfully as they waited.

"It's not cheating. It's skill," Karen returned smugly.

"Why did you want to come here again?" Matt questioned Foggy teasingly. "So we could get our butts kicked by our secretary?"

"I'm sure it was," Karen answered for him. "And I'll get right back to that," she added as she went over and poured a glass of water from a pitcher that Josie had brought over. "But first, I think it's time for a water break. Especially for you, Foggy-"

"No!" Matt cried as he moved to place himself bodily between the glass of water Karen was holding out toward the other omega and Foggy; sliding right in front of his mate as if he were trying to shield him from a bullet.

"Matt? What's wrong?" she asked. 

"He can't drink that!"

"Why not? He needs to stay hydrated. Especially in this heat."

She held out the glass again, but Matt just pressed impossibly closer to Foggy.

"I think what Matt means is thanks, but no thanks. Josie's water isn't really safe to drink," Foggy explained.

"'Isn't really safe to drink'? It's chock-full of rust, lead, mold and other microbes!"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I can see the bacteria swimming in it from here," Foggy agreed with a smile in his voice.

Matt chuckled softly, but backed the two of them another few steps away from the offending liquid.

"Gross!" Karen exclaimed as she put down the glass next to the pitcher.

With the threat of the contaminated water out of the way, Matt relaxed slightly, only to find himself tensing up again. He turned around so he was facing Foggy and leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

"Do you know the guy at the bar? Your 10 o'clock, keeps looking over here?"

Foggy must have looked, but he's subtle about it, because he doesn't shift his head.

"No, I don't know him, but don't you think he might be looking over here because I'm very obviously pregnant and in a bar?" Foggy murmured back.

Matt shook his head.

"His heart rate's through the roof, and I can smell the heavy adrenaline on him from here. Something's go him riled, and . . ."

"Wearing a heavy coat like that, in hot weather like this, he's definitely packing . . ."

"I'm going to-"

"No, Matt, don't make a thing! Half the people in here are carrying guns!"

"Yeah, but they're not tapping their fingers on the trigger, or looking over at my mate like he might be their next target."

"He's not . . . .dammit."

Matt ignored the protests and curses of his mate, and walked over to the twitchy man. He tried to convince him to go elsewhere, but that wasn't a very successful endeavor, because he was looking for them. Nelson and Murdock, with their trustworthy reputation and word-of-mouth esteemed legal counsel.


	28. To the scene of the crime

No! No! The man was everything he wanted to keep Foggy away from! Grotto was mob-affiliated. They should be running the other way and leaving him to face the consequences of his actions alone, not dragging themselves into this mess.

The things was, Grotto said he wanted redemption, a second chance . . . .and, well, Matt could understand. Karen too, it seemed. And Foggy, well, Foggy saw the good in everyone, so once he knew the others were onboard, he joined them whole-heartedly.

Unfortunately, their new client didn't make it away from 'the massacre' as scot-free as they initially thought, so Karen went with him to the hospital, and Foggy, (despite Matt's pleas that he just go home), went to the crime scene with Matt. 

"Gentlemen, this is a crime scene," Brett intoned as they approached the ruin of a bar where the Kitchen Irish used to meet.

"So it is," Matt replied mock-surprised.

"You're bringing your very pregnant mate to gruesome crime scenes now, Murdock? 

Nice. 

Is this your sick idea of a date? Why don't you just take him to the morgue for your next night out?" the officer scoffed. 

Matt was about to reply, but Foggy beat him to it.

"Just because I'm pregnant doesn't mean I can't go on living my life . . . .now, we're here for information about what went down, Brett."

"Then you can read about it in the papers like everyone else, Nelson. This crime scene is closed, so I'll thank you kindly to leave. If you don't, I'll be forced to arrest you, which normally, would fill me with glee, but given you're pregnant, will be way less enjoyable. But you're right; just because you're pregnant we can't give you special treatment."

Normally, a threat against his mate would get his back up, but Matt knew Brett would never harm a hair on Foggy's head. Officer Mahoney was far more likely to turn in his badge than to arrest Foggy, much less while Foggy was round and heavy with child, but appearances had to be maintained, and Foggy fell for the officer's facade like always. 

The omega let out an indignant squawk and started spinning 'hypotheticals' with his childhood 'frenemy,' but Matt shifted his attention to the cops inside the building.

Mobsters in bulletproof vests. Firepower heavy enough to blow through one side and out the other of a Kevlar vest. Military precision. Dogs of Hell already filling the morgue, making this new development an unwelcome surprise for the coroner. Overall, a nightmare that he and his firm were now irrevocably involved in, pregnant partner and all. He needed to figure out what was happening before things got even worse. By the sound of things, the body count was already pretty high. 

This ended as soon as Daredevil was able to stop whoever was behind this. Matt was determined on that front. So he might as well start with what the cops knew.

"Tell me something, officer," Matt queried. "Why would a mobster wear a bulletproof vest to a meeting in his own bar?"

"Keep it down in there! Somebody's getting written up!" Brett called indignantly to the other officers as he quietly led Matt and Foggy away from them. "Look, something's got the gangs spooked. There's a new player. We don't know who they are, just who they're not."

"Not Kitchen Irish," Foggy supplied.

"Or Dogs of Hell," Matt added to Brett's noticeable surprise.

"Yeah, they hit the Dogs of Hell a few days ago. 

Look, this is already pretty ugly, and it shows every sign that it's only going to get worse. You want my advice? If you do theoretically know anyone who was involved in this, you turn them over to the police, and you get as far away from this case as you possibly can. I'm telling you as a friend," Brett advised, (and if Matt hadn't imagined it, the last part was almost pleading).

"Guess we can't help each other after all," Foggy concluded neutrally.

Brett walked away, and Foggy stood watching him walk away.

"He called me 'a friend'," Foggy commented, touched, and clearly on the verge of tears. "Okay, enough of my hormonal sappiness, what did you hear? Your ears are a lot better than mine."

"Pretty much what Brett told us. Someone's been shooting up the gangs with some pretty heavy-duty weaponry. Rounds able to pierce through Kevlar, used with military-like precision."

"What are we getting into?"

"I don't know, but I plan on asking some more questions tonight."

"No! No, Matt! You said it yourself, 'heavy-duty weaponry used with military precision.' Those are not the type of guys you take on with your fists in a fetish suit with horns."

"It's not a fetish suit, and someone has to stop them."

"I'm not going to be able to stop you, am I?"

Foggy sounded sad and resigned, and ironically that _did_ almost stop Matt dead in his tracks. Then he remembered how many lives were at stake, and he shored up his resolve and shook his head.

"No, you can't."

"Well, if I can't stop you, I can help you . . ."

Matt's heart froze in his chest for a moment as he imagined Foggy going out to rattle cages and see what he could stir up. No way. Not happening.

"No! Go straight home, Foggy."

"I'm not allowed to do research? Reach out to an old friend, and ask them some questions?"

"Is this 'friend' dangerous?"

"Says the man going out to beat information out of armed criminals. You have zero legs to stand on in this argument."

"Foggy! You're . . . I need . . . . _Please_."

"Don't worry, Matt. It's a friend from grade school. I'll buy him a drink. We'll talk. No big deal."

He was telling the truth, but there was something else there that Matt's not sure how to read. Unfortunately, if he wanted to make any headway before the night was over, he'd have to let it go.

"Just please, _please_ be safe," Matt pleaded as he ran off in the direction of their apartment, and his suit.

"Only if you are," Foggy called after him; a statement that probably should have made Matt nervous, but he filed away for later.


	29. Bang!

_Matt! . . .No! No! No! . . . . .hear me? . . . .can you b- . . . . .Matt!_

Matt awoke to echoes of his mate's panicked words in his ears. They were only fragments, a few words here or there, but they felt like something remembered.

Speaking of remembered, how did get here? Where was he?

He concentrated on the sensations around him. Leather and silk against bare skin. Surrounded by a familiar scent. He'd been stripped to his underwear, and he was laying on the couch in his apartment, lightly covered in a sheet from his bed, which meant . . . He listened carefully to his surrounding, expanding his focus slowly because his head was ringing, ( _"Bang!"_ ), and yes, there was Foggy's heartbeat fluttering away anxiously as he paced around the kitchen.

So he was in his apartment, but how did he get there?

He'd left the apartment in the Daredevil suit and then . . . .Turk. He'd asked Turk about what was going on. . . . And then . . . .meat hooks. He'd followed up on a lead about the Mexican cartel, but the place had seemed abandoned. . . Only it wasn't. The cartel members were still there, but they were hanging on meat hooks; left to die . . .which they had, minus one, who was terrified, but told him that all of what had happened there was the work of one man . . . . .one man, who Matt tracked down and tried to stop. They'd fought on the roof top, and just as it looked like Matt had the upper hand . . . . .a gun . . . .strapped to the other man's ankle. **Bang!** He'd fallen to a lower part of the roof with one thought speeding through his head, _I'm sorry, Foggy. You might lose me after all._

Then . . . .pain, pain so strong it blocked out almost everything else, but . . . _Matt! . . .No! No! No! . . . . .hear me? . . . .can you b- . . . . .Matt!_ . . .Foggy. Foggy must have found him and brought him home . . .all of which explained the pacing and reek of distressed omega. All of which would be much easier to deal with, if his head would stop throbbing.

"Foggy, will you bring me some aspirin?" 

Okay, he might be pushing his luck, but moving seemed like it was a little out of his reach, and there would be no having the conversation he was sure awaited him without something to dull the pain.

He heard a glass being filled, but it was accompanied by the cutting sound of an angry voice.

"Is that all? No X-Ray? Or perhaps I could interest you in a CAT scan, or maybe a psych eval?"

Matt sighed. He'd expected this, but he'd been hoping Foggy might hold off until he was medicated. Apparently that hope was in vain.

The rattle of a pill bottle filled the air, so Foggy was still following through, but his anger was palpable.

"Aspirin is fine, thanks."

Foggy handed him the pills and put the glass in front of him on the coffee table. Then the omega backed off several steps and stood in silence, watching him as he swallowed the tablets and downed the water.

He'd expected an answer. Maybe another snarky retort, maybe a tearful plea; something. Instead, it appeared that the silent treatment was his new punishment.

( **Bang!** _I'm sorry, Foggy . . ._ )

"Look," Matt started slowly. "I'm sorry, Foggy. I made a mistake. I should have sensed it; should have known he had a gun on his ankle. 

I missed it, and then he grabbed for it so fast. He was really fast, Foggy. . . .but it was sloppy of me, and I'm sorry. I'll be more careful next time. I promise."

"I don't know where to start . . . 'I'm sorry' or 'next time'! 

You're sorry?! You got shot in the head, and all you have is 'I'm sorry'! Which, you have the nerve to pair with 'I'll be more careful next time'?! 

It's a miracle that 'next time' is even a possibility! You were **shot in the head**! Usually that situation ends with someone in a bodybag! You're lucky you're still alive!"

"No, the way the shot glanced off of the helmet was intentional. This guy is trained. He knew what he was doing, and he wasn't trying to kill me. This was a warning shot."

"I saw what this guy did at the hospital. He's a lunatic, so I wouldn't be so quick to make any assumptions about his intentions.

Furthermore, his 'warning shot' left you bleeding and unconscious on a rooftop. Where you would have stayed for who knows how long if I hadn't gone looking for you. You were so out of it, I pretty much had to carry you home, so thank God for adrenaline, or I have no idea how I would have managed it. . ."

"Foggy-"

"-and finally, assuming you're right, and this was all intentional; assuming he wasn't trying to kill you, and it truly was a carefully calculated warning shot, then why aren't you heeding his warning? He's trying to tell you to back off or next time he'll kill you, and you _still_ want another round?!"

"Blood is being shed. Someone needs to stop this guy.

Last night he shot up a hospital to try to kill our client, and he would have succeeded if Karen hadn't helped him escape," at least that seemed to be what Matt remembered from sneaking up on the shooter after he left the hospital. "Speaking of which, how's Karen? Is she okay?"

"She's really shaken, but she's at the police station with Grotto, and physically, they're both safe. Which is more than I can say for you, Mr. Probable Concussion."

"I'm glad she's safe. . . and I'll be okay."

"Until the next time you go up against this guy, and he decides that this time he doesn't want you getting in his way, so he fires a round through your head or into your chest! He's dangerous!

You've done your part, now let the police do theirs and bring him in."

"You're right, Foggy, he's dangerous. And he's not going to go down quietly. You saw what he did to the Irish! And the Mexican cartel? He hung them on meat hooks and left them to die!

This guy is trained, and he's going to war. He'll mow right through the cops. They'll need help, and I can do that. I can help them stop the bloodshed. I almost bested him last night."

"But you didn't! He got the jump on you, and you almost died!"

"I told you . . ."

"You made a mistake, he had a gun on his ankle, you won't miss it next time, he was just so fast . . .but none of that changes the fact that you almost died last night! You almost died!

I can't do this again, Matt! I can't run across the city looking for you again. I can't stumbled across what I think is your dead body again! I can't carry you home while you're still in the suit, praying that no one sees . . .because do you have any idea what would have happened if someone saw us?! I just can't, Matt! I'm not cut out for this!

It's bad enough that I have to lie to my parents and Karen all the time to keep your secret; that I have to make excuses for why you aren't there, or why you're so stiff, or scraped up and bruised. Now you want me do this too?!"

Foggy fell heavily into one of the chairs across from the couch, like his legs just couldn't hold him anymore. His heart raced along worryingly fast, and his breath came out in ragged pants that changed to heaving sobs.

"No. No, Foggy, I'm not asking you to take that on. I'm so grateful for all that you've done; all the ways that you've taken care of me . . .but, no, I don't expect you to search for me, or carry me home. You don't need to do that," Matt denied, as he toyed with the idea of trying to get up and hug Foggy.

"Yes, I do. 

Matt, this morning I went to the hospital to see if you were there, because you hadn't come home, and I was worried sick. Literally, sick. I threw up twice before I got dressed and went looking for you.

I started at the hospital, because I figured, wherever the shooter was, that's where you'd be . . .and I knew he'd been there because Karen had called to say what had happened . . . and it was horrible. The place was shot to hell, but you weren't there.

Then, I overheard officers talking about shots fired on a rooftop over on 10th, and I figured, 'that's got to be him! That's got to be Matt! He followed after the shooter, and then . . . ' and I couldn't let myself finish that thought. All I could do was run to 10th, and get into every building I could to check the roof.

Eight buildings. I checked the rooftop of eight different buildings. I ran up countless stairs, pregnant belly and all, but all I knew was that I couldn't stop. I couldn't slow down, no matter how much my muscles burned or how short of breath I felt, because you were out there. You were on one of those rooftops, and the idea of not finding you; it made it harder to breathe than any of those stairs ever could.

And then, I saw your boots around the corner of some structure on the roof of the eighth building. And I ran even faster, and there you were, laying still, and bloody, in that stupid suit on the rooftop. Looking dead!

I ran to you, and I called to you, and when I touched you, you started making this horrible groaning noise. It was clear you were in a lot of pain, but you were alive. Despite my worst fears, you were alive, so somehow I picked you up, and I stumbled down the stairs with you, and out into the alley. Then, I took what I thought would be the least trafficked route home. Sticking to alleys and shadows; sometimes ducking behind dumpsters until someone passed by, and I got you home.

I found you, and I brought you home, because that was the only choice I had. You were missing, and the only choice I had was to look for you. You were hurt, and the only choice I had was to care for you. It doesn't matter what you did or didn't ask me to do, or what your expectations are. I love you, and that means these things aren't optional, Matty. 

So, if you keep doing this. If you keep going out there. I'll keep looking for you. I'll keep bringing you home. I'll keep taking care of you as best as I can. That's what you do when you love someone."

Matt was torn between guilt for all the pain he'd caused his mate, and the desire to argue that what he was doing wasn't optional for him either. He needed to help where he could. He couldn't just ignore something like this. He just wished he could help without hurting Foggy.

Speaking of Foggy, the omega showed no signs of calming, and Matt was more than a little concerned. He stumbled to his feet, and tottered toward Foggy, but before he could reach him, the omega pushed himself shakily to his feet and took several decisive steps away, leaving Matt feeling unbalanced. He wanted to wrap his mate up in his arms and try to calm him, but it seemed like Foggy wanted nothing to do with him at the moment.

"I'm not so sure you should be up yet. Lay back down."

"Foggy . . ."

"I'm serious. I didn't drag your ass home so you could kill yourself in our apartment when you fall and break your neck during a dizzy spell. Back on the couch! Or better yet, let me help you to bed."

"What about Karen? Isn't she waiting for us at the police station?

We shouldn't keep her waiting.

I’ll get dressed and we can-"

" _We_ aren't doing anything. _**I'll**_ go meet her just as soon as I know you're safe, and _**you'll**_ stay here and rest."

"But-"

"No but's! You're staying here and resting! . . . And I'm calling Claire to ask her to come and give you a once over. You probably have a concussion, and you look like hell.

This way, there'll be no questions about what happened to you that we'll have to lie to answer . . AND there's less chance that we'll miss something serious, like, I don't know, that you have a slow brain bleed that could kill you. And, I can worry less about you keeling over on me in the middle of a meeting with our client."

"Calm down," Matt urged, since the omega's heart, which had been racing the whole time, had started to pick up its pace, making it painfully clear just how distressed he was. "I know you're worried, but don't you think you're overreacting a little? I'll be-"

"'Overreacting'?!?" Foggy snapped. " _'Overreacting'_! 

You want overreacting, I'll show you overreacting!"

Foggy stomped to the other side of the coffee table, and braced his weight awkwardly on one arm as he held onto the low table and did some sort of squat-like motion to pick up the Daredevil suit. He seemed to lose his balance near the ground, but recovered enough to push himself up to a standing position again, grunting with effort, and straining the whole way. Then he stood unsteadily on his feet, armored suit in hand, anger radiating off of him in waves.

Matt wasn't exactly sure what Foggy had planned, but it seemed to involve his suit, and probably hiding it or maybe even destroying it. So, before he could think too much about it, he lunged forward and grabbed the other side of the suit, stance widening, and muscles going taut. 

"Let go," he heard himself growl as he tugged slightly harder.

Foggy stumbled a little, but kept to his feet. He raised his chin defiantly.

"Or what? Are you going to fight me? Would you hit me over this?"

Matt froze, unsure of what to say, his grip staying tight on the other end of the suit.

"You would, wouldn't you? Silly me, I thought you'd never raise a hand against me."

Matt felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head. He maintained his hold on the suit, but he let the tension from their tugging go slack. 

He would never hurt Foggy, but suddenly he realized why the omega might think he would. He stood with a wide, strong stance and taut muscles; standing like he was ready to fight. He had been forcefully tugging; communicating his strength to his opponent, (his stomach turned at the mere thought of Foggy as his 'opponent'). All paired with a growled command; making a verbal threat to warn of impending physical violence.

"Foggy-"

"You know what? Keep it! I hope you and Daredevil are very happy together!" Foggy snarled as he let go of the suit. "Now, I've got a job to do; you do still trust me to do my job, don't you?"

"Of course, Foggy-"

"Save it. 

I'm going to meet Karen, but while I'm gone, you should probably think about your priorities. . .and rest . . .but while you're resting, you need to decide if this is worth it.

I'm not saying it's the suit or me, that would never end well, but I do think you need to differentiate between helping the people of Hell's Kitchen, and crazily endangering your life with little to no actual positive outcome resulting from your insane risks. You also need to remember that your life isn't just your own. You're my mate, and you're going to be the father of these three little ones."

Foggy rubbed his swollen belly to make his point.

"We need you too. At least as much as the city needs Daredevil; probably more. Does that mean anything to you?"

"Fog-"

"I said save it. We'll talk about it when I get home."

Then the wobbly and still very upset omega turned on his heel, and retreated out the front door.

Matt sunk to the couch with his head in his hands. What was he going to do?


End file.
